


And I Tell Myself It's An Elaborate Dream

by kitsana_d



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 36,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsana_d/pseuds/kitsana_d
Summary: Waking up in a strange place with jumbled memories and no idea who she is, our main character must learn to navigate her new life. But it is one filled with lies, half-truths, secrets and a man that is as broken as she is. Can she solve the mysteries of the Prison and still manage to make a future for herself?
Comments: 5
Kudos: 1





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was the intital rough draft. I'm in the process of completely re-writing this mess to clarify a bunch of stuff that I really got mixed up. We'll see how it all works out in the end!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange beginning

She woke with a start, and immediately choked on the thick dust on the floor under her. Her limbs were heavy and resisted as she tried to curl into a fetal position. The place she was in was dimly lit with a blue light. As the coughing passed, she was suddenly aware of a sense of loss so deep that tears filled her eyes. But what that loss actually was, she didn’t know. And then it struck her. Her name. She didn’t know her name.  
A man’s voice broke the silence. “Don’t move,” he said softly. “Keep your eyes closed and don’t say anything. You are still in danger.”  
Warm hands slowly wrapped around her ankles and tugged gently. The floor was smooth, despite its dusty covering, and she slid easily. She risked cracking open an eye, and saw a massie set of doors coming closer. These were quickly passed, and then she was bumping down a set of shallow steps.  
The man left her and began to pull the doors shut. In the brighter light of this outer room, she could see the doors were covered in locks and sigils. The man immediately began chanting quietly, lighting up the sigils in swirling colors. As he did so, she heard the physical locks slam home with an echoing clang. This was clearly somewhere dangerous. But, it was also somewhere she’d been before. Or was that all just a dream?  
The man wheeled suddenly. His eyes were narrowed, his face suspicious. “How did you get in that room?” he asked. His voice was a soft accented baritone, but there was an edge under it. She realized that he might have saved her, but he would brook no nonsense.  
“I- sir, I don’t know where I am.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know...there was...what happened to me?” Tears slipped from her eyes.  
His expression softened. “Is there anything you do remember? Anything at all?”  
“There was a gate. I was always afraid of it, but he made me walk through it.” She stopped. “He used to beat me. I would hide at the library for as long as I could, but he would stilI- No, that’s not right” She stopped, shaking her head and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I was seeing someone, and he teased me about that gate all the time. He tugged me through it. But he never hit me.” She looked at him. “I have a feeling I was going to kill myself, but I don’t think that’s right either.” She buried her hands in her hair and moaned loudly. “What is happening to my mind? Is this Hell?”  
“Of a sort.” He smiled sardonically and examined a panel next to the doors. Blue light bathed his face as he studied the screen, frowning.  
She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around. The room was lit by white light at floor level, projected up the walls. But it was quickly swallowed in shadows and did little to dispel the gloom. The whole thing seemed contrived, somehow; like it was designed to convey spookiness and fear. But when a bright orange eye opened in the shadow closest to her, she flinched. Another popped up near it, at an impossible relation to the first. And a soft mad giggle drifted from the darkness.  
“Um, there’s-”  
“Don’t acknowledge them. We need to leave now.” He snapped the panel shut. “Let’s get you to Medical and have the Doctor take a look at you.” He walked past her and toward the outer door.  
Her legs still felt weak, but two attempts later she was on her feet and following him. Why did she feel so weak? She had to scurry to keep pace.  
“Where was I when you found me?” she asked after a moment.  
“That was the chamber of the Collector. It’s a hive mind creature, and extremely dangerous. That room is warded and buried deeply within this building. I’d still very much like to know how you got in there.” The man stopped, facing her. His expression was still stern, but it wasn’t as hard as it had been before.  
She cringed at his tone. In her experience, verbal rebukes came first, followed by fists. No! That’s not right! I was never in an abusive relationship! Her thoughts screamed at her. She answered softly. “I-I really don’t know. Things are all mixed up in my mind. I can’t remember-” Her words were cut off by a sob. “I don’t know who I am, where I was before now, or what to do!”  
The man did not react to her tears. “Answers don’t come easy here. Follow me. You’re stuck here, so we might as well try to find you a purpose.” 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we meet the Doctor

The walk to Medical was further than she imagined it might be. Endless corridors of unmarked grey stone with unexpected and seemingly random twists lit by glowing orbs that floated below the ceiling. At the end of the corridor, they came to a brass elevator. The ride up took several minutes. She took the time to study her guide. He seemed to be human; tall, probably six foot; dark brown hair with the lightest touches of silver at the temples; a strong nose, thin lips and dark green eyes. His skin was pale from too much time indoors.  
The elevator opened onto another maze-like corridor, and yet another elevator ride. This opened onto a hallway floored with wood in an elaborate herringbone pattern. The walls here were covered in flocked wallpaper, and the lights were set in brass fixtures of elaborate scrollwork. Just as she was ready to give up and say she could walk no more, they arrived.  
After the quasi-historical feeling of the corridors, Medical was shocking. Gleaming steel, softly curving plastic, bright lighting and the faint tinge of antiseptic in the air. A humanoid robot stood just inside the doors. Its blank face panel and exposed metal limbs emphasized the mechanical nature of the thing.  
“Oh, Warden, what have you drug in?” a disembodied voice asked.  
“She was in the Collector’s chamber, Doctor,” the man replied.  
“Very interesting!” A violet light shone on her. “Please hold still, miss, and let the robot do its job.” A cold metal hand grabbed her left arm and gently rotated it. A syringe followed, drawing a small amount of blood. The robot guided her to an exam table and motioned for her to sit.  
“Let’s see what we have.” The disembodied voice of the Doctor hummed as machinery whirred. “Human, 21st century, Terran origin. But not one of the ones in my database. How intriguing!”  
He started to hum again. A few moments passed before the Doctor spoke again. “Well, I’ve found a few similar worlds. Including- well, anyway.” A beam of light shot down in front of her, then consolidated into an image of a man. He wore jeans, a tee shirt and a blazer, his hair disarrayed and his face unshaven. She felt like she knew him but couldn’t place where from or why.  
She looked at the man the Doctor called Warden and asked, “Are you certain this isn’t Hell?”  
The Warden barked out a laugh. “Yes. Our dear Doctor does not have a body the way you and I do. He uses holograms.”  
“And I thought using a fictitious doctor that you might recognize would be fun. We have to make our own fun around here.” The holographic Doctor smiled at her. It had potential to be a rather nice smile, but it was smug and sarcastic.  
“I honestly have no idea who that is,” she said, confused.  
“And it really doesn’t suit you,” the Warden said. “Can you please use your default?”  
“Spoilsport,” the Doctor harrumphed and the hologram blurred. The next image was of a genderless being, easily seven foot tall, blue skinned, bald and faintly glowing. His skin was covered in black lines and nodes that occasionally flashed yellow. His eyes were solid white and glowed faintly. The facial features were both human and something she could not place. When he spoke, his voice was a cold monotone.  
“Well, you’re severely underweight, but according to my scans you’re not malnourished. Other than your weight, you seem fairly healthy. I’m going to give you a few injections to keep you that way - vitamin booster, a better hormonal regulator than you have, and a more effective antidepressant than what’s in your system now.” The robot approached again, carrying a tray with three slim syringes and a small pot with a soft white glow.  
“Wait, you got all that from a blood sample?” She was eyeing the syringes suspiciously.  
“Some of it. The rest came from my scan.” The Doctor tilted his head quizzically. “You doubt my diagnosis?”  
“But you-” she started.  
“The Doctor’s people are able to process information much faster than your or I. Or most computers, come to that.” The Warden looked impatient. “If he says you need these, then you need them.”  
“I-I’m sorry. I’m used to doctors taking days or weeks to give you a ‘maybe’ answer.” She held out her arm obediently. The robot administered the shots quickly and efficiently. It then dabbed a finger in the pot, then looked quizzically at the Warden.  
He studied her for a long moment, cocking his head like he was listening to a whisper only he could hear. “Librarian,” he said, a tone of satisfaction in his voice.  
The robot then began to inscribe something across her forehead. It tingled and faded like snowflakes on bare skin.  
“And that was?” she asked.  
“Your new name and position.” The Warden looked her directly in the eye. “Librarian, you will be working directly for me. In addition to your library duties you’re going to be something of an assistant to me. I hope you can handle it.”  
“That’s a rather large task for the girl,” the Doctor interjected.  
“It’s one that’s been needed for quite some time. And I know she isn’t controlled by the Council.”  
“They’ll still find a way to use her,” the Doctor said. “And I think you know it.”  
The Warden quirked a quick smile. “I’m ready for them this time. And now, Librarian, please follow me. We have several things we need to do before I have to answer the Council.”  
The Librarian slid off of the exam table. Her legs still felt rubbery. “Can I rest a bit first, I’m still feeling a bit weak.”  
“She needs food and rest as soon as you can spare the time,” the Doctor said.  
“Soon enough.” The Warden turned and walked from the room.  
“Good luck to you.” The Doctor bowed his head to her as they left.  
“Thank you?” she replied, hurrying after the Warden.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenges

This walk was shorter. The Warden opened the door to an office that took her breath away. A heavy, dark wood desk with elaborate carving dominated the room. Behind the desk was a large screen surrounded by an elaborate brass frame. The wall to the right was lined with file cabinets and the wall to the left was lined with bookshelves. A sepia globe, easily three feet in diameter, sat in one corner. The Librarian didn’t recognize any of the areas marked on it. There was a second door next to the door they entered. It was unadorned.  
“Your job during this call is to stand behind me and remain silent.” The Warden eased himself into his leather chair. “No matter what happens, please try not to react or respond. The Council enjoys making others uncomfortable.”  
“I will try my best, sir.” The honorific fell in place as naturally as breathing.  
The Warden's smile lit up again. “Excellent.” He swiveled his chair to face the screen. She stepped in behind him and to his left. He punched a button and the screen sparked to life.  
Nine beings appeared on the screen, each in their own space. The Librarian could recognize no species or gender, but they seemed at least vaguely humanoid. Their expressions however, were far easier to discern. All bore some degree of frustration or anger.  
“Council members,” began the Warden. He bowed his head slightly.  
“What is the meaning behind this, Warden?” growled a reptilian being. The voice was deep and buzzing. It’s four eyes glowed golden.  
“There was an anomaly with the Collector. It seems that it was able to reach out of containment and take a victim. And it brought along a...passenger.”  
“This is impossible!” a female voice shouted, it came from a fox like being that slammed her fist against their chair. “Nothing is supposed to be able to reach out from the Prison. It is sealed and bound against just such a thing!”  
“Indeed, there is no precedent for this.” The Warden’s voice remained calm and detached. “All the same, it has happened.”  
“And this...being...behind you is the detritus of the Collector’s little trip?” The reptilian being growled again, eyes blinking out of sync with each other.  
“Hardly detritus, Councilman. She is our new Librarian. I expect great things from her. The Collector felt the need to bring her to us, but not to absorb her.”  
The members muttered, nothing clear, except for their disapproval. The Librarian shifted her weight slightly under their scrutiny. There was movement in the corner of her eye, coming from the shadows near the bookcases, but she dared not look. She would not embarrass the Warden by disobeying.  
A series of gasps and turned heads changed that. When the Warden turned to look, she allowed herself to look too. Everyone was staring at a dark mass of shadow that was gathering by the bookshelves. It flowed toward them, eyes and mouths appearing and disappearing as it moved. It stopped in front of her, coalescing into a shape. It was like a huge hound, six legged and bare skulled with thick black fur covering the rest of its body. The fur moved like smoke, drifting and wavering around them. Seven eyes of seven colors regarded her, and two mouths dropped open, tongues lolling. This was more disconcerting as the second mouth was in the creature’s throat.  
“A Guardian!” someone gasped. The Librarian didn’t bother to look away. She was held tightly by that multi-hued gaze. There was something familiar about this being. Despite the monstrous appearance, she knew this creature would not harm her.  
So, you have been named. Librarian. It is a good start. The being spoke but the Librarian wasn’t sure if she was the only one who could hear it. But the voice was something straight from her childhood - calming and melodious. You must prove yourself. And we have a task for you to do so. A massive paw drew back and gently pushed a small ball of white smoke toward her. The ball took on a dog shape as well, but where the larger one was as tall as she was, this one was small enough to fit in one hand. It opened one large, glowing blue eye in the center of its forehead. I was vertical rather than horizontal, with an oddly shaped iris.  
This is Shadow. He is newly born and unprepared for life here. You are to raise him until he is ready to become a proper guardian.  
“I accept this task,” the Librarian responded. She squatted down. Shadow staggered in the way of newborns and snuggled into her hands. She gently picked him up, surprised as the smoke solidified into silky fur. She cradled him against her chest, feeling the rapid patter of its heart against her.  
The Guardian nodded solemnly. We will be watching. And I will see you again soon. With that, it melted into the floor, disappearing.  
The Librarian turned back. Everyone was staring in shock. She looked at the Warden. “No one else heard that conversation, did they?” she asked softly.  
He shook his head. “The-” his voice cracked slightly. “The Guardians do not speak with us. They are-”  
“Demons.” The speaker was in the upper right of the screen. They appeared male with deep green skin and features both elven and aquatic. “Beings that terrorize the Prison. One of the worst ways one can die in that place.” There were murmurs of agreement. A few squares of the screen blinked to black as council members left the meeting.  
The elven man spoke again. “You’ve taken quite a task, Warden. Goddess help you.” And his screen blacked as well. The others seemed to take this as a sign the meeting was over and they left as well.  
The Warden hadn’t looked away from her. “So. What is that?”  
“It said he was newly born. His name is Shadow. I am to raise him until he is ready to become a Guardian proper.” When she said his name, the ball of fluff wiggled in her hands and tried to lick her face. She couldn’t help but smile.  
The Warden heaved a sigh. “Why do I have the sense you’re going to be nothing but trouble? Not even here an hour and you’ve attracted the Guardians and aggravated the Council.”  
The Librarian leaned back against the desk. “I mean no disrespect, but I need answers, Warden. Where I am, who they are, why no one has a name-”  
“And you’re tired and hungry, yes?” She nodded. He sighed again. “Then let us go to my apartments. I’ll feed you and explain what I can.”


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New home and info dump

The second door led to a short corridor. The Warden pushed open the door at the other end and ushered her into his apartments.  
The Librarian was struck first by the size. The doorway they came through was next to the double doors of the main entrance, all three of heavy dark wood with brass hardware. The floor was tiled in a maze pattern of black, white, grey and burgundy with a huge, circular mosaic of a sunburst in the center. A massive crystal chandelier hung above the mosaic, and large windows around the domed ceiling let in natural light. Despite the heavy cloud cover, the room was still well lit.  
A sweeping staircase of the same dark wood led up to a landing, then split to lead to two wings. The walls were plaster, painted in a soft grey that mirrored the color in the floor. Four doors led off of the main level to other rooms. The Warden led her into the one on the right, closest to the entrance.   
It was the kitchen, and it was rather unlike the grand entrance. It felt more lived in, and was considerably warmer. The countertops had the cluttered look of a room often used, and there were even a few dirty dishes in the sink. There was a table with four chairs that had seen heavy use, already set with tea cups and a sugar bowl.  
“I’ll make us some tea. Grab the yellow jar out of the pantry, please,” said the Warden, indicating a narrow door on the other side of the room.  
The Librarian opened the door and gasped. The pantry was immense. Shelves ran from floor to ceiling and the room was easily six foot deep. Every conceivable foodstuff was on those shelves. She quickly located the yellow jar and cradled it against her body, taking care not to jostle Shadow, who had fallen asleep.   
She made it to the table without incident, just as the Warden was setting a teapot and cream pitcher down. He took the jar from her without comment and nodded to a chair.  
“I know tea and biscuits are hardly a real meal, but I think they’ll do for the moment.”  
“I’m sure they will, sir. But can you please tell me-”  
“Yes.” His tone was irritated but not angry. “It’s hard to pick a place to start. I’ll give you the broad strokes and we can talk more in depth later. Agreed?”  
It was hardly the answer she wanted, but the Librarian also knew she could hardly argue. She shifted Shadow to her other hand and took her tea cup. “Agreed. May I ask questions while you explain?”  
The Warden thought for a moment, doctoring his tea with cream. “Yes. But I may not answer them. There is far too much to discuss.  
“To begin, you shouldn’t be here. It should be impossible for you to be here. As Councilwoman Plena pointed out, the chamber of the Collector is heavily warded, as is the rest of the Prison. But it was able to reach beyond that and pluck you out of the multiverse. And then it left you on the floor.”  
“How did you find me so quickly?” the Librarian asked.  
“The Collector is a very special prisoner. If anything happens in that chamber or to that door, alarms go off to alert me immediately. There isn’t much I can do beyond trying to contain it, but I still need to respond.”  
“What about the names?”  
“That’s part of the Prison - it strips your identity. You have a title or a number. Memories that help you identify yourself are stripped away. You are left with your crimes and guilt and fears. And when the Architect built this place, he didn’t see fit to confine that effect to just the prisoners. You and I and the Doctor are prisoners as much as any being in the cells below us.”  
“Am I stuck here?” Her voice was quiet.  
“Yes.”  
“For how long?”  
“Ah. That.” The Warden took a long sip of his tea and opened the jar. The scent of honey and cinnamon and cloves filled the air. He pulled out a biscuit (Cookies, they’re cookies she thought) and took a bite. “For the rest of your life, certainly. And it will be a long life.”  
“How can you say that?” she asked with confusion.  
The lightning smile again. “The Doctor has been here for over three hundred years. And I have been here longer.”  
“That’s...impossible!” The Librarian realized she had raised her voice when Shadow whined in his sleep.  
“It is, isn’t it? And yet, it is true. I don’t know how but I can guess as to why. Getting someone foolish enough to take a position here is hard enough. Having to replace them every 40 years or so? You wouldn’t find enough suckers to take the job. The Doctor is here to collect as much information on as many species as the multiverse provides. He willingly took his position for the sake of research. You are a sort of gift, I think.”  
“And you? How did you end up here?” She gave in and took a cookie from the jar. It was soft, strongly flavored of spiced honey and as comforting as a warm blanket.  
The Warden didn’t answer. His gaze unfocused and his expression became melancholy. “I’m afraid that’s been lost to the mists of time. But I have a feeling that I’m being punished.” He shook his head, coming out of his reverie.  
“I think that’s enough for today. You look ready to sleep on the table.” He stood up. “I suppose you can stay here. There are more rooms than I would ever use.”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected converstaion

The Librarian followed him up the stairs. At the landing, they headed down the left wing. There were four doors lining the hall. The Warden led her to the last door on the right.  
“My rooms are across the hall if you need anything. But I think this should meet your needs.”  
“Thank you, sir. Good night.” The Librarian slipped into her room, not waiting for a response. It was better than she could have hoped. The bed was large, the carpet a low pile of neutral color, the furniture a blond wood that kept it from dominating the room. She lay Shadow on the bed and investigated the attached bathroom. A toilet, large shower stall, massive tub and large sink of white porcelain gleamed in the soft yellow light globes. She approached the mirror and looked at herself.  
A stranger looked back. Shoulder length dishwater blonde hair, pasty skin that seemed too tight, a smattering of freckles across the nose, purple rings under hazel eyes. A forgettable face, really, if it wasn’t so haggard. She was thin, probably unhealthily so. Her clavicles stood out sharply. _He was always complaining that I was getting fat. How did I ever believe that?_  
She jumped slightly at that thought. Where did that come from? She stripped off her shirt, noting that the lacy bra underneath looked new. Prominent ribs, too knobby joints, and a collection of fading bruises that surrounded her torso. She touched them gingerly. _What kind of life did I escape?_  
Not ready to face that question, she quickly stripped out of the rest of her clothing and stepped into the shower. Hot water and a floral soap relaxed her tense muscles. Soft towels after helped calm her mind. She braided her hair quickly and stepped back into the main room.  
Opening the wardrobe, she found clean clothing in her size. There was a sweater and hoodie hanging on hangers. She knew them and that they were a source of comfort. There were other clothes that seemed like things she would have wanted but never let herself have. She rummaged, fingering soft fabrics - satins and cottons and even furs. At last she pulled on some cotton panties and a pair of pale blue satin pajamas and turned to climb into bed.  
The Guardian from the Warden’s office was standing there, its form smaller to accommodate the room. The Librarian yelped and lept backward, bruising her arm on the wardrobe.  
_My apologies. I meant you no harm._  
“Funny way to show it,” she muttered, rubbing the sore spot.  
_I had hoped to speak with you now that you are in a less stressful environment._  
The Librarian sat on the edge of her bed, regarding the creature. “Do you have a name?”  
_Once, long ago. You’ve named me in your mind, haven’t you?_  
She nodded. “It’s not creative. I think of you as Seven Eyes.”  
_Accurate, nonetheless._ Seven Eyes tilted their head and examined the Librarian closely. _You do not fear me?_  
“Oh, I fear you. But it’s more from respect. I don’t feel like you would hurt me unless I gave you reason to. I truly hope I’m right.”  
The Guardian tossed their head back and laughed. It was almost musical. The Librarian felt tension draining from her with that sound. Seven laid a paw on her leg.  
_You truly were the right choice. And you will be a truly great Librarian. But you must understand what you have been dropped into. The Warden and the Council are on the verge of open war against each other. The Warden has long disagreed with how they try to manipulate how things are run. And the Council sees the Prison as their own personal pool of slaves. But the Warden has been fighting for a long time, and fighting alone. Without you, he will lose this fight._  
“How am I supposed to help? I’m nobody,” the Librarian lamented.  
_You_ were _nobody. Now you are the Librarian. And you will be able to help in ways you cannot comprehend. We will start with the smallest of steps. Look on the bookshelf._  
The Librarian got out of bed and walked to the shelf. It was mostly bare, but there was a small, green, leather bound volume lying on one shelf. The cover and spine were blank. Opening it revealed parchment pages covered in spidery handwriting. She realized she didn’t know the alphabet but was able to read it anyway. _On the Desired Archetypes of Potential Prison Staff._  
_That is one of many volumes scattered through the Prison. The author has been forgotten, but each volume will help you unlock something about this place._ Seven Eyes opened their second mouth and hissed “Free us!” almost silently.  
“Why are you helping me?” the Librarian asked quietly. But the Guardian didn’t answer. Instead, they melted into smoky shadows and disappeared.  
Shadow was snoring lightly, and made a small noise of irritation as the Librarian settled herself into bed. She was caressing the book, but took a moment to sooth the fluffball. Then she cracked open the volume and began flipping until she found the pages for the Librarian. A scrap of paper fluttered out. It was in the same spidery handwriting and read _A trace of the real self can be found in the false self._  
A searing pain stabbed into the Librarian’s head as she read these words. The doubts and confusion she’d felt all day magnified. This wasn’t her; she was never this meek or scared. But abuse had- there was no abuse- worn her away- no it hadn’t, it never happened. She was opinionated and bossy- quiet and submissive- and wasn’t going to- roll over and accept this. She clutched her head, stifling a cry. It was overwhelming her.  
And as rapidly as it had come, it passed. Her head still throbbed painfully, but she knew something of herself. Her real self. There was something deep down that assured her of this truth and she embraced it.  
The book lay on her lap where she had dropped it in her surprise and pain. She picked it back up and found the pages for the Librarian again. And began to read.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day begins

The Librarian was woken by Shadow licking her face. She brushed him away, and allowed herself a stretch.  
“What am I supposed to do for you, little guy?” she wondered out loud. The Guardian hadn’t given her instructions. Did he need to eat? Was she going to have to watch out for little accidents? Or was he something beyond that?  
You’re a librarian now, dummy. See what you can find out about the Guardians. If everyone is so afraid of them there has to be information on them somewhere. The thought felt like it wasn’t hers, but the advice was sound.  
She slipped out of bed and went through her morning routine. Opening the wardrobe again, she pulled out a cotton bra that matched the panties, a plain tee, jeans and the sweater. It was a button down cardigan that was probably two sizes too big, but it had large pockets. She put Shadow in the left pocket, slipped on a pair of ballet flats and wandered down to the kitchen.  
The Warden was already there, a cup of tea in front of him. He looked like he hadn’t slept well. He was staring at the table, apparently deep in thought.  
“Good morning, sir,” she said. He hummed an acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the table. She examined the kitchen. There was a kettle on the stove, still steaming. Tea wasn’t   
going to cut it for her, so she went to the pantry, hoping against hope for coffee. And there it was, on the bottom shelf. And a french press next to it. Thank you!   
The Librarian opened the can (still sealed!) and savored the scent for a moment before scooping the grounds into the press and adding hot water from the kettle. She opened one of the cabinets by the stove and found it full of cups and mugs. She grabbed one that called out to her and took it and the press to the table.  
“Do I need to fix you breakfast, sir?” she asked.  
“Hmm? No.” The Warden emerged from his reverie. “I don’t usually eat often, and I’m capable of taking care of myself.” He looked at her place on the table. “What is all that?”  
“Coffee in a french press. I’m amazed it was in the pantry!”  
“This kitchen provides what you want. It’s some mix of magic and technology I never bothered to learn. It gives me what I want when I want it, so I don’t question it.”  
“So, if I wanted a pastry?”   
“Check the bread box on the counter.”   
The Librarian rushed over and opened the box. The scent of oranges and sugar rushed out. Two soft golden squares sat on a plate inside. She poked gently at one. Still warm. She snatched up the plate and came back to the table.  
“What are those?” the Warden asked.  
“Orange scones. Would you care for a bit?” She broke a piece off and slid it to the edge of the plate. She then depressed the plunger on her coffee and poured it into her mug. She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring it.  
“We have much work to do today. Here,” he slid something across to her. “This is going to be your new best friend.” He snagged the piece of scone on his way back across the table.  
“What is it?” the Librarian asked as she picked it up.   
“Your handheld computer. That will list your tasks and our schedule for each day.”   
She flipped it open. Two black screens jumped to life, icons lined up like soldiers. “Ooh! Dual screen tablet!” she exclaimed.  
“You’re familiar with the tech. Excellent! That will make this go much faster. Pull up today’s schedule.” The Warden smiled gently and quietly took the rest of the scone from her plate.  
“I imagine it’s this one,” the Librarian said, tapping an icon. “Whoops, no. Close, and this one. Ha!” She smiled at her success. “Today we’re supposed to have prisoners arriving at 11:30, a parole hearing at 14, and a meeting with Councilwoman Plena at 16. Is the Prison on a twenty-four hour time system?”  
“Twenty-eight. What time is it now?”  
She looked in the upper corner. “9:17.”  
“Then we have time. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”  
“Hey!” She looked up from her tablet to her plate. “You could have just asked.”  
The Warden grinned at her. “Indeed. But you did offer it to me.”  
The Librarian shook her head and ate a few bites of her scone. “I need to ask you something. Is there any information available about the Guardians?”  
“There might be something in the library but I wouldn’t know for certain.”  
She reached into her sweater and pulled Shadow out. He gave a soft chirp and wiggled until she snuggled him under her chin.  
“You’re carrying that demonspawn in your pocket?” the Warden cried.  
“He’s a baby,” she replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “And I don't know what he needs. I was hoping there was some kind of record about them, what they eat, anything.”  
"Finish your breakfast, then I will show you what I can." The Warden followed his own advice, taking a large bite of the scone and pointedly ignoring the Librarian. She followed suit, her bites growing in size. A single cookie last night had done nothing to really help her hunger. And the bitter black coffee was a perfect counterpoint. The two worked their magic together, and she felt much more human by the time she drained the mug.  
The Warden led her across the foyer to the double doors that were to the left of the entrance. These slid open and the Librarian's breath left in a soft gasp. It was one of the most glorious rooms she'd ever seen. Two stories tall, three of the walls lined with shelves, and a spiraling iron staircase to reach the second level. A wheeled ladder was attached to the wall to the right. Thick burgundy carpet with a gentle bronze paisley covered the floor. The shelving was a rich red wood with brass hardware, holding volumes that were predominantly leather-bound. A massive fireplace of grey marble stood to the left, a seating area in front of it. The two wing chairs and sofa were covered in dark green leather and the exposed wood matched the shelves. Two end tables held stained glass lamps.  
Past the fireplace was a floor to ceiling window. At the far end of the room stood a massive desk, twin to the one in the Warden's office.   
She cautiously stepped into the room, breathing deeply. When she looked at the Warden, her eyes almost glowed.  
"Heaven," she breathed. "Oh this is marvelous." She swayed slightly.  
"Easy now," said the Warden, grabbing her arm. He was afraid she might faint on him. He guided her to the nearest wing chair and helped her sit. She sank into the soft leather with a sigh and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.  
"I'm sorry. It was just so much at once," she explained, eyes still closed.  
He chuckled. "It was worth it to see your face light up like that."  
The Librarian opened her eyes and looked up at him, still smiling. "I must have looked foolish. It's a room with books. I've surely seen something like it before."  
"Perhaps, but this is no public space. This is a private collection, carefully curated and shared with no one. Until now." As he talked, the Warden's voice dropped to an almost seductive tone. "And you get full access to everything."  
"Warden, are you trying to sell me on this position? There's no need," she said softly. Is he flirting? she wondered to herself.  
"Oh, I'm aware. But I'm rather enjoying the faces you make when I talk about it." He smiled, wolfishly. "I'm not sure how much is you naturally and how much is the mantle of Librarian, but this is definitely something that brings you pleasure."  
The Librarian eyed him sideways. "Is there a catch here?"  
"Meaning?"  
"Are you expecting something more than just secretarial work from me?" Could do worse, her traitor brain whispered. “Something more...intimate?”  
The Warden drew himself up. "Absolutely not." His tone was icy now, and she kicked herself for saying anything.  
"Forgive me, sir." She ducked her head, blushing furiously. "I must have let my imagination get the better of me. It won't happen again."


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warden responds

How delicious, the Warden thought. It was truly enjoyable watching her respond to the library. She was a mixture of joy and mania, her ecstasy tempered by his presence. But only just. He hadn't considered seducing her before, but watching her face as she let her feelings sweep her away would keep him awake later that night. And it might help secure her to his cause even more strongly. He tucked the thought away for later, when he could consider the outcomes.  
"Yes, well, you've been through quite a bit in the last day. I suppose we can overlook your zeal today," he replied, modulating his tone to be more reasonable. "As for what you might be looking for, I have no idea where to have you start."  
"Oh, I know," the Librarian said. She got to her feet and made a beeline for the stairs. "There are five volumes that can help." She plucked two books from the shelf, barely looking at them as she did. Clattering back down the stairs, she moved to the wall behind his desk and removed a slim volume from the bottom shelf. A haze of confusion crossed her face. Then she set the stack on his desk and crossed over to the ladder. A volume from the middle shelf joined the others.  
“How did you do that?” he asked in wonder.  
“Hmm? Oh, I just thought of what I would need and the books reveal themselves. Or at least, that’s how it feels. It's very strange, though," she said. "I feel like there's another volume here, but I can't see it." She shook her head and sighed. “But I have a feeling that I don’t have time to look into that right now. And I can hardly use your desk for my research."  
"Quite true," the Warden replied. "I'll have a desk brought in for you later. You can leave those there for the moment."  
She walked away from the pile and joined him by the doors. "I suppose it's nearly time for us to leave?"  
"I'd like to show you the other space you'll be working in before we deal with intake," was the reply.  
She chewed at her lip. He could tell she was debating arguing. But her natural inclination to obey overrode her desire to dive into the books. The Warden offered her his arm, and she took it cautiously.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the warehouse

The Warden led her back to the elevator by Medical. The descent was short, perhaps one floor. As the doors slid open, The Librarian looked around the space.  
"What is this place?" she asked.  
"Your other workspace," he replied almost jovially.  
She turned in a slow circle. The lights were spaced just a bit too far apart, leaving pools of light and shadow but showing her the immense size of the space.  
"This place is a warehouse!"  
"In a way." The Warden gestured to the left, at row upon row of tables covered in boxes. "These are collections of items taken from prisoners either upon arrival or confiscated during their sentence."  
"And this...this clusterfuck over here?" she shouted, waving to the right. Large metal shelving units marched away into the distance. The shelves were heaped with papers, folders, and books.  
"That would be prisoner documentation," he replied calmly.  
The Librarian wheeled on him. "You mean to tell me that nothing is organized?"  
"There was never a clerk available."  
She covered her face and let out a wailing shriek. Then she took a deep breath. "You promise me Heaven and now you tell me that I'm going to be working in Hell?"  
"I'm afraid it's worse than that."  
"How?!" Exasperation made her voice squeak.  
"The paperwork needs to be matched up to the files in the boxes." The Warden's face and voice remained stoic. The Librarian's did not. She began to rage, stringing together curses that were as inventive as they were vulgar. He let her rave, waiting until she wore herself down.  
"I understand this isn't ideal, but this is the job I need you to do most." He put a hand on her shoulder and dropped his voice. "This isn't just any job, Librarian. There is information here that I need, but I cannot find it. I don't have the time to sort through this, let alone organize it. But what is hidden here could have huge ramifications for the Prison and the Council. Will you help me?"  
The Librarian hung her head. "How much time do I have to spend here?"  
The Warden flashed one of his lightning smiles. "Only a few hours a day. There are plenty of other tasks I need your help with. I'm no slave driver."  
She pulled away from him, walking over to the tables. "With patience, even an elephant can be devoured bite by bite." She wrapped her arms around herself.  
He smiled again. "And now, we need to get to the receiving bay to welcome our new prisoners."


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's not supposed to happen

The receiving bay was a large stone room with a platform at one end. The Warden mounted the steps, motioning her to follow him. Guards in black uniforms were filing in from another door to stand in front of the platform. There were many different races, but they all looked bored. Just another day for them.  
"Your job is simple enough. When each prisoner steps forward, you read off their assigned number. You then tell me what their crime was and I assign them to the appropriate block. No fuss, no judgements. The guards escort them away and we move on with our day."  
"I understand, sir," the Librarian replied. She pulled out her tablet and opened it. She found the app for prisoner receiving and quickly looked over the first entry. "I think I"ll be able to do this easily enough."  
"Excellent." A whoosh noise pulled their attention up as a spiraling portal opened at the other end of the room. Beings staggered out of it and formed rough lines.  
The guards motioned to the first prisoner. The Librarian compared his face to the photo on the file. "Prisoner 1993573-Alpha," she called out. Her voice echoed in the room. A guard wrote the number across the prisoner's forehead. "Serial murder," she murmured to the Warden.  
"Cell block 45," the Warden called out.  
They repeated this for another ten prisoners, and the Librarian stopped. She frowned at the screen. "Sir, something is not right here. This file is...I'm not sure."  
"Don't be-" but he stopped mid sentence. Looking at the prisoners again, the Warden noticed something odd about the next condemned being. He wasn't glowing per se, but he did seem to be illuminated somehow.  
The Librarian was tapping at her screens furiously. "I think this record has been tampered with. And maybe the prisoner, too."  
"Guruhs, check his DNA profile," the Warden called down.  
"Not in the usual spot," cautioned the Librarian.  
"What?"  
"If you usually check the hand, go for the leg or neck." The Warden looked at her hard and suspicious. "It's a hunch."  
"As she says."  
Guruhs, a stocky fellow with walrus-like features, quickly pulled out a small device and jabbed the prisoner in the thigh. "She was right, sir!"  
"Send it to me," the Warden barked, pulling out his own tablet. He scowled at the screen. "Take him to the mines. And let us finish this."  
The prisoner hollered and tried to pull away, but was quickly subdued and hauled away. The other prisoners stood very still.  
The Librarian cleared her throat, motioned to the guard to pull forward the next man, and they quickly finished their task.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How?

"With me," the Warden growled, stalking down the steps. The Librarian scurried after him. Once in the elevator, he turned to her. "How did you know something was wrong?"  
"The file felt wrong. Like an imperfect seam on a sock." She shrugged. "I don't know how, but I'm sure if I have a few minutes to fiddle with it, I could figure out what they did."  
The doors opened and he walked toward his office. "Do so. We're going to need that information when we report back to Xythia about this cock-up."  
She worked as they rode up. Fingers tapping against the screens and muttered threats at the file were the only noises. As they arrived at their floor, the Warden took her elbow to guide her. She didn’t bother to look up and let him steer her while she worked.   
The Librarian let out a sigh. “I can see the issue but I have to tease it apart and trying to do so on this tiny screen will take me forever.” She waved the tablet slightly. “Is there a larger screen I can transfer this to to work on?”  
The Warden nodded. “Take my chair,” he instructed. Then he pulled out a carefully concealed cord from the bottom of the massive screen that sat behind his desk. It plugged into the tablet and the information jumped screens.   
“Is it also a touch screen?” she asked.  
“No, but these let you treat it like it is,” he replied, handing her a set of odd gloves. The fingertips ended in metal, and wires ran down the fingers to rings. From these rings, the wires gathered into a thick twist that connected to a metal cuff. With a bit of difficulty, the Librarian managed to slip these onto her hands. As she snapped the second cuff closed, a gentle tingle passed through both hands. She flinched.  
“The tingle?” he asked. She nodded. “That means you’re connected. Work your magic.”   
As the Librarian set to work, the Warden seated himself in one of the chairs in front of his desk and started working on his own tablet. It was a profile on the Xythian prisoner they had received and a report on the one that was missing. The screw-up had been on the Xythian end of the operation. The Xyth they had sent was also a wanted criminal, so assigning him to the mines would not earn any backlash. But how had this happened at all?  
He drummed his fingers against his chair arm. It could be a legitimate operation by the Xythian criminals to protect one of their own. It could be a sign of corruption within the Xythian government. Or it could be Council interference. He wouldn’t put it past one or two of them to set up a trap. A failure on his part increased their influence and weakened his own position.  
“Oh, you sneaky monkey fuck!” the Librarian suddenly shouted. The Warden’s head snapped up. She had two documents on screen. “Lying sack of shit codes. That was clever, but I found you.”  
“What did you find?” he asked intently.  
“The file for the prisoner we received stitched together with the files for the prisoner we were supposed to get. It was pieced together in such a way that we had all the expected information cleverly mixed with the information we would gather when we checked here.” She flicked her fingers and a third document popped up. “And here’s the code that was used. All your evidence.”  
The Warden strode closer, looking over the information. “I have to say I’m rather impressed. I certainly didn’t expect this kind of demonstration of your abilities so soon, nor for them to be so successful.”  
“Thank you, sir.” The Librarian blushed at the praise.  
He showed her where to transfer the files for him, then helped her out of the gloves. “I won’t need your assistance the rest of today. Why don’t you head back to the library to work on your research? I’ll join you around 1700 and we can have supper.”  
“Yes, sir.” She smiled and slipped from the room.  
The Warden let his own smile fade as she left. How was she this good this quickly?


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a secret

The Librarian was drumming her fingers on her desktop as she read. The text was trying to slither away while she read. "I said stop moving," she growled at the text. Amazingly, it stopped. "Better, thank you." She stroked the edge of the book as she read.  
"Guardians are creatures of the Prison, born of myth and lies. Some say they are the souls of prisoners, others that they are servants of the Architect. Why they are here is as unknown as what they are. They might protect the Prison, they may serve as guards against threats from other dimensions, they may even be the secret executioners."  
She carefully snapped the book shut. She stroked the cover. That information was not really helpful, and the other volumes weren't much clearer. The only difference was that this account was handwritten. There was something about that that carried weight, but it didn't change the fact that it wasn't terribly informative.  
The attempts to find information on just the Guardians had failed. But she'd seen mention of the Architect several times. Holding the name in her mind, she looked over the shelves. Less than 5 volumes lit up. She sighed. Something was better than nothing.  
Retrieving the volumes, she returned to her new desk. The first two volumes mentioned the Architect in passing only. The third had some more information.  
"The Architect was a man of great renown even before he built the marvel that is the Prison. His reputation as one of the few designers able to meld magic and technology ultimately led him to accept the commission to build a Prison of incomparable size and security.  
"Not much is known about his time here, but he disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Rumors circulated that he had gotten involved with organized crime. Other rumors suggested that there was an infernal reason for his disappearance. Nothing has been proven or confirmed. His body has never been found."  
She pulled Shadow out of her pocket and set him on the desktop. "This is all fascinating but we're getting nowhere on what I need to do about you." He wiggled and tried to jump at her. She smiled and scooped him off of the desk and set him on the floor. He squeaked, and she got down on her hands and knees to play with him. He scampered off towards the Warden's desk.  
"No, Shadow!" She chased after him, but the fluff ball was fast. He squeezed himself under the front of the desk and then began to whimper. Sighing, the Librarian circled the desk and crawled under. "Come here!" She reached in, but Shadow scampered out of reach. She swung her hand, attempting to grab him. She brushed the inner panel and heard a soft click. Looking into the gloom, she saw a panel swing open. And then she realized there was a book. No, two books. One was a large, ledger style volume; the other was small, leather bound, with no visible writing on the cover or spine. The large volume held information on both the Guardians and the Architect. That smaller volume could be almost anything, but it was practically the twin to the one in her room.  
She gently closed the panel again. The Warden had this hidden for a reason. And she had no right to intrude on his privacy. Maybe if she asked him about it? But how to bring it up?  
The Librarian pulled Shadow out from the desk and shook a finger at him. He yawned hugely and his eye started drifting shut. She tucked him back into her cardigan pocket. She began to pace the room, her thoughts running in circles. She needed more information. And there were two more volumes that might hold more information. She went back to her desk, pulled another volume over, and began to read.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation

The Warden's day had proven rather unproductive. The parole hearing went exactly as expected (denied), and his call with Councilwoman Plena had barely avoided becoming a shouting match. A large whisky and some quiet time in front of the library fire would do him a world of good.  
Entering the apartment, he was struck by the scent of baking. He cautiously entered the kitchen. The Librarian was washing dishes. She looked up at him distractedly.  
"Rough day?" she asked.  
"Indeed. What's all this?" he asked, leaning against the counter.  
"My research hit a point that I can't move past and I can't think through it. So I needed to do something physical to let my brain try to work through it. I don't know the building well enough to go for a long walk, and I wasn't sure when you would be back, so baking it was."  
"Why would it matter when I came back?" he asked.  
"My other go-to.” He raised one eyebrow, his look suggestive. She splashed water at him with a wry smile of her own. “Talking it out with someone. Shadow's a lousy conversationalist." She smiled at him. "But we're off topic. You had a rough day. How can I help?"  
The Warden looked at her for a moment. Somehow the submissive creature he found the day before was making herself at home and trying to be helpful. "Join me in the library," he said at last.  
"Oh, um, I left a bit of a mess in there," the Librarian said. She dropped her gaze to the sink and started rubbing her thumb and forefinger together.  
"I don't mind." He kept his voice soft. Be gentle and let her come to you, he thought.  
"Alright." She checked the timer, turned off the oven and pulled out her creation. Instantly, the kitchen was flooded with the smell of peaches and cinnamon and some other note he couldn't define. "This was finished anyway and needs to cool."  
The Warden crossed to the library, Librarian close behind. He slid open the doors and stopped. Her desk had at least ten books lying open or marked in multiple places. Two different notebooks covered in writing sat in the middle, and balled up paper surrounded the whole area.  
"I got frustrated toward the end and had to walk away," she explained. "I had every intention of picking up."  
He laughed. "This is hardly a mess! You were productive." He started picking up the paper balls. "Here, we'll use these to start the fire."  
A few moments later, a roaring fire sat in the hearth. The Librarian sat on the sofa while the Warden fixed himself his whisky. He sat next to her, casually dropping his right arm over her shoulders. She immediately stiffened, but said nothing. He sipped his drink and let out a content sigh.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't even think to offer you a drink," he said after a moment.  
"That's alright, sir. I’ve never drunk alcohol before. I think it had something to do with my medications."  
"You've never even tried it?"  
"No. It wasn't that I didn't want to; I was just more afraid of what might happen if I did. Some of the medicines I'd taken had very...unpleasant side effects. Enough to scare me about going against the warnings." She shifted uncomfortably, trying to slide away from him.  
"That seems a shame. To be so afraid of what might be that you potentially miss something enjoyable, I mean." He swirled the amber liquid, watching her from the corner of his eye.  
"I found the secret compartment in your desk!" she blurted out. "It was an accident and I touched nothing, I swear!"  
The Warden sat up straight, pulling his arm from around her shoulders. "You did what?" he asked, voice low.  
The Librarian cringed, sliding away more. "I-I didn't want to lie to you or make you think that I was keeping secrets. But it was an accident!"  
"Show me." He stood up, pulling her up by the arm. He could feel her trembling but his anger was blinding him. He stopped behind the desk, and barely stopped himself from pushing her to the floor. She knelt, brushed her hand over the panel and it swung wide.  
"That is impossible. This compartment is locked at all times and only I know the combination. How did you do this?"  
"I swear to you, sir, I don't know. It was an accident."  
"Why were you under there?" Suspicion filled his voice.  
"Shadow and I were playing and he ran under there, then couldn't figure out how to get out. I was trying to catch him when I bumped the panel." Her voice was small and shaking. She wouldn't meet his gaze.  
"Damn demonspawn," the Warden growled. "Look at me, Librarian." Her gaze drifted up to meet his. "I want you to swear to me that you will not open this compartment again. Someday, when you've been here longer, proven your loyalty, we can discuss this again. But for now, you will forget this. Swear to me."  
"I swear to you, I won't even think about it," she breathed. "I swear on Shadow's life."  
He barked a laugh. "How would that bind you?"  
"I don't want to have to explain to Seven Eyes if something happened to him. They entrusted me with his well-being and well, they're scarier than you are."  
"Fair enough." He offered her his hand to help her up. She pushed herself up, ignoring his hand.  
"I'm rather tired, sir. I think I'll go to bed now."  
"You've not had supper. And if I don't make sure you eat, the Doctor will lecture me. Come and eat." With his anger cooling, he began to see that he had blundered badly. She was scared of him.  
"No, I'll be fine. I just need some rest," she said, taking tiny steps backward.  
"Please, join me." The Warden softened his voice, trying to add a pleading tone. "Eating alone is depressing, and I'm beginning to enjoy your company."  
The Librarian froze. She was still breathing rapidly, eyes too wide, be she wasn't trying to get away. "I will come if you promise not to touch me again," she said at last.  
The Warden closed his eyes. "I promise." He opened his eyes again. "I lost my temper. Forgive me."  
She nodded, then rapidly walked to the kitchen. He watched her walk away. This was still salvageable, but not tonight. Tonight was a night for apologies and trying to prove he meant no harm. And it would likely fall on deaf ears.

Supper was a simple affair of soup and bread. The Librarian picked at her serving, hands still shaking. The Warden was quiet and polite, but she was still afraid of him. For a few moments in the library, she had been sure of something. He had never raised his hand, but her old life had taught her that it could happen without warning. The thought she might be trapped with another abuser had her heart racing almost as fast as her mind.  
"Why don't we skip to dessert?" he asked after several moments of awkward silence. "It looks delicious."  
"Let's hope so. I've never made this before." She retrieved the dish from the stove top, then fetched a bowl out of the cold cabinet. She quickly plated up two slices of layered peaches that oozed a spiced sauce. Then she topped each with a dollop of whipped cream. The cream smelled faintly of flowers.  
The Warden took a bite, his eyes closing as he savored it. "What is this? It's amazing."  
She smiled a bit. "White peach galette with Lady Grey infused whipped cream."  
"I refuse to believe you've never made this before," he said, scooping up another bite. She nibbled at hers. It was quite good. But her stomach was still in knots and there was no joy in the food.  
The Librarian waited until the Warden finished his dessert, then excused herself and slipped out of the kitchen before he could object. She ran for her room and locked the door. Only then did she let herself break down and cry. How was she going to survive this?


	13. 13

The next morning, the Librarian steeled herself for almost ten minutes before going down to breakfast. Seeing the Warden was inevitable, and trying to avoid him wasn’t going to work for long.  
He was seated at the table when she walked into the kitchen. His tea cup was centered on the mat in front of him, his hands resting lightly to either side.  
“Ah! I was beginning to wonder if you would join me,” he said, forced joviality in his tone.  
She eased into her chair, staring at the table. “I think I owe you another apology, Warden. I’ve been rather, well, I haven’t been easy to deal with. I won’t try to blame circumstances-”  
“No, last night was my fault,” he interrupted. “I’m not used to being around others and I'm not as good at controlling my emotions as I once was.”  
They sat in silence for a few moments, neither looking directly at the other. The Librarian gnawed at her thumb.  
“Stop that; your nails are already ragged enough,” he said offhandedly.  
She dropped her hand to the table and glared at him. Then she got up and made her coffee. While it brewed, she made a quick sandwich and grabbed another pastry from the breadbox. There was a lunch sack nearby, and in they went. As soon as her coffee was ready, she poured her mug full.  
“Excuse me, sir, but I have work to get to.” Her tone was cold, and she walked from the room without so much as a glance in his direction.  
He stared after her, wondering what had sparked that. Then he realized. He’d been critical of her again. Dammit, I can’t keep doing that, he chided himself. One step forward and two steps back was never going to win her over.  
An idea came to him. A gift. Something that would help show that he was on her side. The unused study upstairs. He would have the Doctor finish setting up the entertainment area that he’d been pushing on the Warden for years. Maybe a distraction and a neutral area for them both would allow for more civil exchanges.  
Well, it was worth trying. The Warden pulled out his tablet and put in a call to the Doctor.

The Librarian stalked to the warehouse. She hadn't really calmed down by the time she reached it, and she didn't want to calm down either. She took Shadow from her pocket and sat him on the ground to scamper. He was definitely larger than yesterday; it took both hands to hold him now. She sat on the floor to finish her coffee and the pastry she'd grabbed. It was a raspberry danish today, sweet and flaky. She watched him sniff and explore while she ate.  
She leaned back against the wall of the elevator shaft and sighed. She could have handled that better. So could he, but she was responsible for her own behavior and she knew it. She slid the green book from her other pocket and flipped through it again, rereading the pages about her position.  
"The Librarian is a position of unrealized power. They will possess the ability to find materials no matter how they are organized (or disorganized). They will be able to read any languages they encounter. Their natural inclination to categorize and organize information will make them ideal at filing and retrieving, as well as finding materials that are deliberately misplaced. As is their nature, they will attempt to solve any problem put in front of them. Ethics drives them harder than most for they want to help people find what they're looking for. This is a double-edged sword as they want to help the searcher find both the truth and the answer they seek. Sometimes these will conflict and the Librarian will be forced to choose a path - helping the seeker or helping the truth."  
She snorted as she closed the book. She was already facing that. In her hands was a powerful tool. If she shared the information with the Warden of what his position could and should do, what would his reaction be? Would he appreciate the new knowledge? Or would he resent her for trying to tell him what to do?  
Shadow galloped past her, skidding to a stop. The dust he kicked up made him sneeze. He shook his head, then yipped at her. Curious, the Librarian asked, "What is it?" The tiny Guardian galloped back the way he had come, and she followed him. He ran up several rows before darting into the racks of papers. She followed him in several more rows, stopping in front of a shelf. Another small book sat on top of a stack of papers. This one was a bright blue, no writing on the cover or spine. She felt the tingle of familiarity. Picking it up, she opened the cover. _On The Treatment of Prisoners_.  
The Librarian tucked the volume into her pocket. Then she reached down and patted Shadow's head. "Good boy! I wouldn't have found this for ages." It would certainly give her something to think on while she filed random paperwork.


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconciliation goes sideways

The Librarian returned to their apartments at 1500. She was tired and dusty but feeling good about the progress she’d made. A hot shower and change of clothes would give her enough of a break to be ready to tackle the pile on her desk in the library. She hoped that if she just kept working, she wouldn’t have time to misstep with the Warden. She might even be able to avoid him for longer stretches of time.  
“Oh, there you are!” The Warden’s voice called to her as she walked past the door before her room. She could hardly ignore him at that point, and stuck her head in. The room appeared to be a study of some sort. He smiled at her as she entered.  
The room had a massive couch in the center, facing a wall. There was a fireplace, but a screen was mounted over it. And it was playing a movie. One she knew.  
“We have TV? And better yet, we have Princess Bride? That’s one of my favorite movies!” She rushed into the room. The Warden’s smile grew.  
“I had the Doctor set it all up for you. I thought if you had something enjoyable for your downtime, you might feel more at home. And it might give us something to bond over.”  
The Librarian turned to face him. “I don’t know how I can thank you for this,” she started. Then she flung herself at him, wrapping him in a hug. The Warden cleared his throat uncomfortably and pushed at her shoulders. She pulled away.  
“I’m glad to see you like it,” he said awkwardly.  
“I’m sorry, sir. It- this might be better than the library. After staring at books and papers all day, it will be nice to have something relaxing to come back to.” On the screen, Inigo and Fezzik began their rhyming game, and she smiled again.  
He smiled back. “Then why don’t we try a movie after supper? Your choice.”  
“That sounds like a nice plan. Thank you, sir.”

The Librarian showered quickly, then dressed in her “lazy” clothes, anticipating a cozy night. As she twisted her hair into a bun, her eye fell on the green book. She grabbed it and stuffed it into her hoodie pocket.  
Her research on the Guardians and the Architect had petered out already. The last piece she needed was in the Warden’s desk. Fat chance of laying her hands on that any time soon. But it made her wonder.  
Focusing her mind, she looked for information about the Warden. Seven volumes pinged back. One was in the Warden’s desk. Growling slightly, she pulled the other volumes and brought them back to her desk. It was rapidly filling up. She pulled out her tablet and found the requisitions app. She asked for a book cart and another ten notebooks. The ones she had were rapidly filling.  
Cracking open the first volume, she was shocked to find historical records from the founding of the Prison. There were references to the Architect, in passing, but nothing that would have aided her research. But at some point, the terms Architect and Warden began to blur and be used interchangeably. Did the Architect “disappear” because he was actually the Warden?  
The Librarian lost herself in her reading. The notebook beside her rapidly filled with notes and a rather crooked timeline. The Warden finally interrupted her at 1800 for supper.  
“I called for you twice,” he said as they walked to the kitchen.  
“Sorry, got swept up in the research again,” she explained. “There’s just so much to learn and connect!”  
He laughed. “You have time, you know. And the books aren’t going anywhere either.  
“I suppose you’re right.” The Librarian sat at the table. Shadow settled in at her feet. The Warden had decided he wanted to share a favorite dish of his, beef roast with new potatoes and creamed spinach.  
They ate in silence, savoring the meal. It was warm and comforting, the kitchen a small island of normalcy and coziness.  
"I have to say you seem...different...today,” the Warden remarked as casually as he could.  
“I am, thank you.” She tried to reply with equal calm, but a bit of pride still touched her voice.   
“Might I ask what changed?”  
She chewed slowly, thinking. Swallowing, she made her decision. “Yes. This.” She pulled the scrap from the book and handed it across the table. He took it carefully and examined it.   
“I can’t read this. How did it help?” he asked.  
“It says ‘a trace of the real self can be found in the false self.’” She watched him for any reaction, but he simply continued to look quizzically at the paper. “When I read it, I felt a tremendous change. It was like I was looking at two overlapping worlds, but I suddenly knew myself. Not everything, like memories, but like who I was inside. The real me.” Their eyes met across the table.   
“I suppose that explains a few things,” he conceded at last. “And I suppose that also let the mantle of Librarian settle on you more tightly.”  
“I suppose that’s possible,” she mused. Her hand snaked into her hoodie pocket, stroking the book. Her vision softened, losing focus as she contemplated this.  
“And now you want to go back to your research, don’t you?” the Warden asked, sadness touching his voice.  
“Yes,” she said. “But you offered a night of relaxing. That’s hard to say no to.”  
He stood. “Then let’s go upstairs before you can change your mind,” he said, offering her his hand. She accepted it, and together they went to the new entertainment room.


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> closer together, further apart

The Librarian stopped at the door. “I need to grab something. Get settled and I’ll be right there,” she said.  
The Warden smiled at her and nodded. He entered the room and turned on the soft lighting. Then he settled himself on the far end of the sofa and picked up the remote controls. He turned on the screen and started to idly flick through the movie options the Doctor had loaded for them.  
The Librarian bounced into the room, a large blanket in her arms. Shadow came charging after her, his short legs churning to keep up. He was attacking the trailing edge of the blanket and making little growling noises. They weren’t very frightening, but the Librarian was playing along.  
“Ooh, big tough guy!” she teased, tugging at the blanket. Shadow growled louder, then let go and yipped at her. She laughed, scooping him up. “Someday you’re going to be too big for this, and you will be the big tough guy you see in your mind.”  
He wiggled, licking her face. She laughed again and set him on the floor. He set about to sniffing and exploring.  
The Warden found himself smiling still. It was infectious. She was infectious. “Find what you needed?”  
“Yup.” She held up the blanket. It was brightly colored and fluffy. “If you’re going to binge watch, you need to be cozy.” She flopped onto the opposite end of the couch and pulled the fabric over her legs.  
“Not sharing?” he teased.  
“Well, I wasn’t sure if that was something you did. I mean, you’re still in your suit!”  
“I’m comfortable enough,” he replied.  
“Pfft, no you aren’t.” The Librarian eyed him. “If you want to do this right, you should go put on something more comfortable. No shoes, but slippers are fine. Loose, warm clothing. Something you could fall asleep in.”  
“And if I do?”  
“I’ll share the blanket,” she replied. He scowled at her and she winked at him. He growled and left the room. She wondered if maybe she’d pushed too far. But he returned in a few moments, dressed in pajama pants and a hoodie.  
“Did you just copy my outfit?” she asked.  
“Yes. You seem comfortable, and I can see why.” The Warden settled back into his spot, and the Librarian flipped the blanket out to cover him as well.  
“So, what looks good?” she asked.   
_You_. “I believe I promised you first pick. The Doctor gave us quite a selection, but I’m not sure about his tastes.”   
She looked at the screen, a touch of distaste touching her features. “That is a lot of rom-coms.”  
“Rom-coms?”  
“Romantic comedies. They tend to be predictable and mildly entertaining at best. Not really my thing.”  
“It seems the Doctor is being less than subtle,” the Warden chuckled. “So, not romantic?”  
“Oh, romance is fine. I’m just weird about the set up I find enjoyable. I’m a big fan of ‘two broken people find and fix each other,’ but ‘these two idiots can’t see they’re crazy for each other’ is fun too.”  
“Hmm, anything spring to mind?” He flipped through the titles a bit.  
“That one!” she cried.  
He looked at her quizzically. “That’s a period drama.”  
“And one of my all time favorite movies. I loved it even as a kid.”  
“You were a strange child, then,” he replied, pressing play.  
As Amadeus flickered to life on the screen, the Librarian settled herself deeper into her spot and poked at him with her toes. The Warden gently scooted away, giving her space. But she did it again.  
“Do you need more room?” he asked.  
“Nope. Just trying to get your attention.” She had an innocent expression on her face. He immediately distrusted it.  
“For what?”  
“To see if I could come over there.” And before he responded, she slid next to him, their sides touching. “Ah, much warmer,” she murmured.  
The Warden found himself unable to respond. She was right there, touching him willingly but he couldn’t move. It was almost too much. She lay her head against his shoulder and the faint scent of her shampoo drifted up to him. He closed his eyes, letting it fill his senses.   
Unbidden, the thought of her in the shower flashed through his mind. His libido, long suppressed, roared to life. His mind was overwhelmed with imaginings of how her skin would feel, what it would be like to run his hands and tongue over her. He remembered the look on her face when she had first seen the library, imagined being the cause, and barely stifled a groan. He was rock hard, and all she had done was put her head on his shoulder.

The Librarian may or may not have been aware of his distress. The familiar movie was full of unfamiliar actors. It was what she remembered, but not. But she didn’t care. Right now, in this moment, things were wonderful. She was warm, she felt safe, and there was something comforting to keep her mind occupied.  
Shadow tried to jump onto the couch, but his legs were far too short. She leaned away to pick him up, surprised at how cool it felt being away from the Warden. She settled Shadow next to her, then leaned back against the Warden’s side. He stirred slightly.  
“I-” His voice was dry and raspy. “I want-” He didn’t finish. He pulled his arm from between them and wrapped it around her. He let out a sigh and squeezed her closer. She obliged, angling her body so that she was pressed even tighter against him. She placed a hand on his chest and he groaned softly.  
“Mmhm, touch starved,” she purred. She traced her fingers in a circular pattern over his sternum. In turn, he traced his fingers over her bicep, wrapping them around it protectively.  
“Why are you doing this?” he whispered.  
“I want to. And I think you need it,” she whispered back.  
“What if I don’t want it?” he asked.   
“Then I stop and I don’t touch you again until you say so.” She pulled her hand away. “Is that what you want?”  
“It would be best, yes,” he replied. His voice was soft and husky, but she could sense the undercurrent of unease. She picked up Shadow and slid away from the Warden. The little Guardian wiggled out of her hands and snuggled against the Warden, taking advantage of the warm space.  
The Librarian slid back to the other end of the sofa. _Too much too fast. What were you even doing, snuggling him like that?_ Her thoughts started, chastising her actions. Guilt quickly swamped her emotions, and she found herself chewing at her fingers again.  
The movie had lost its appeal. Being here had become awkward. She stood up. “I think I’ll go work on my research some more. Good night, sir.” He didn’t respond as she left.


	16. 16

Days passed, becoming weeks. The Librarian found a way to minimize her time with the Warden without being overtly rude. She threw herself into her work in the room she dubbed the warehouse.   
The Librarian was meticulous in her work. It was a part of being the Librarian - not the flesh and blood of her, but the role, the soul of it. And the warehouse was going to be the death of her. Well, spiritually anyway.  
She would grab a random pile of papers each morning. Looking at each one, she would eventually find the prisoner number. Then she would look over the sea of archive boxes until the right one called out. She would walk over, open the file within, and try to put the new paper in the appropriate order. Many of the files were completely empty. The boxes didn't contain much either.  
In the beginning, that emptiness filled her with sadness. A being with no past, not even a few relics or pieces of paper to mark their existence. After a few weeks, it became a mission to give those boxes and files meaning. She would find the missing pieces, help create a picture, make sure they weren't completely forgotten.  
Enthusiasm is all well and good, but in time it also fades. Within two months of beginning this project, the Librarian had resigned herself to clearing a certain amount of paperwork each day. She almost stopped paying attention to what the paperwork was in regards to until the day she happened upon a stack of parole documentation. Curious, she sat down and started to flip through them. Fifty petitions, all of them denied.  
That seemed highly unlikely. She started back over on the stack, reading more. Almost every prisoner was nonviolent, many imprisoned for political reasons. A great many of them were not even politicians but writers, artists and organizers. Over half of the denials weren't the first, second or even third denial. One prisoner was on his fifteenth denial for parole.  
Frowning, the Librarian set the pile back on the shelf. She went over to the boxes, picking at random. Files were wildly inconsistent in how much they contained, but after a search of thirty boxes, she had yet to find an approved parole appeal.  
She drummed her fingers on the table of the last box she'd checked. Her brain was working hard. She had quite a bit of evidence down here, but this was going to take more research. She grabbed her lunch, patted her leg for Shadow to follow, and headed back upstairs to the apartment's library.  
The comforting smells of leather and old paper barely registered today. The Librarian was on a mission. She focused her search for parole procedure. Three books glimmered. She quickly retrieved them and went to her desk. It was the usual organized chaos, but she had enough space to work. But where to start? She pulled the volume from her pocket, began to read, and in moments had picked up a pen to start making notes.

The Warden returned at 1700, just like he always did. The apartment was silent, no scents from the kitchen. He assumed the Librarian must have gotten into her work and wanted to finish what she had started. That wasn't unusual, but it hadn't been happening as much of late.  
Then he heard a noise of frustration from the library. She'd discovered something and was not best pleased, to say the least. He debated with himself for a moment, then entered the library.  
The Librarian looked worn. Her usually tidy hair was hanging loose around her face, and there was a smudge of ink across one cheek. Her papers were spread around her, several with heavy circles or lines. And her expression was a combination of anger and frustration.  
"I hope I'm not interrupting," the Warden said.  
"Oh no, I need to talk to you." Her voice was soft but laced with venom.  
"Ah, well, I am at your disposal!" He affected a carefree tone, but the anger in her eyes had him worried.  
"I've noticed something today while in the warehouse. I came across an entire stack of parole applications. And every one of them was denied."  
He walked over to the bar and poured his usual whisky. "That's not that unusual. We have many dangerous criminals here."  
"Not one of these applicants had committed a violent crime. They were all political."  
"I'm sure the parole boards had their reasons," he replied."  
"No one actually gets pardoned, do they?" Her tone was ice.  
The Warden sipped his drink. "Why does this matter to you?" he asked quietly.  
"Because this is not justice! This is lying and corruption and intentionally keeping people locked away for who knows what reason!" The Librarian was shouting now. She stood quickly, knocking her chair back. "And while they're here, they're basically slave labor. It's immoral, and I want no part of it."  
"And what would you do?" he asked dryly. "Turn them all loose, upending the system and undermining the economies on several planets?”  
"Who gives a flying fuck about the economy? These are people's lives. Even if they were guilty once upon a time, they've more than served their sentences. They deserve to be free."  
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then the Librarian asked softly, “Does anyone get to leave?”  
"The staff is one week on, one week off. And supplies are shipped in and out."  
"I meant the prisoners," she growled.  
The Warden settled into his preferred wing chair and sipped his whisky. His look was cold. "What do you think?" he answered in a low tone.  
She gathered her notes together. "I see. Excuse me." She rushed from the room. He heard her run up the stairs and to her room. The door slammed shut.  
What did she expect? he thought bitterly. Involuntarily, he remembered the handful of executions that had occurred over the years. Death was the only way out, and death was only granted by the Guardians. Watching those executions had given him nightmares for days after. Screaming beings being swallowed into that liquid mass of teeth and terrible eyes that had rolled in ecstasy as they devoured their victim. Surely a life imprisoned was a better fate than that.  
The Warden hurled his glass into the fire. _Life isn't fair. She knows that._ But deep within himself, the seed of doubt had awakened.


	17. 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit with the Doctor

After running out of the room, the Librarian felt the pang of foolishness. She overreacted, again, and needed someone to talk to. She decided there was only one person who might be able to calm her down. It definitely wasn’t the Warden. Maybe it should have been. After all, that little green book had shown her how he could balance the system, but her anger had gotten the better of her. And sometimes ignorance was bliss.   
She slowly cracked open her door. The hall was empty and silent. She made her way down the hall to the staircase. Still no sounds. She descended and scurried across the tile in stocking feet. The doors to the library were closed. Opening the large outer doors, she stopped and pulled on her shoes. Then she walked as quickly as she could to Medical.  
The doors to the infirmary were slightly ajar as she approached. Then she heard voices. It seems the Warden had a similar thought to speak with the Doctor. She hesitated. One the one hand, she didn't want to get caught eavesdropping. But on the other hand, this might be a rare chance to hear the Warden speak openly.  
"Come in, Librarian," the Doctor called out. "I can see you on the camera."  
Blushing at practically being caught, she entered the infirmary. It was empty.  
"Up here," the Doctor called. He was standing in a doorway up a short flight of steps. "My quarters are much more comfortable than the infirmary."  
As she climbed the steps, he let his form shift to the scruffy man in the blazer again.  
"Why do you look like that when I'm here?" she asked.  
"Well, I found I rather like this character. I pulled him out at first because he's a doctor and he's considerably smarter than his companions. I ended up watching the entire show after you left that night. And I found a deeper kinship there."  
"I still don't know who he is, but I'm glad he makes you happy," she said, smiling.  
"Well, I think you look ridiculous," the Warden grumbled. He was seated in an overstuffed chair, whisky in hand.  
"Yeah, well, sometimes it's also nice to fit in. It feels odd to discuss human issues in a decidedly nonhuman form." The Doctor motioned to another chair, then generated one for himself. A table sat in the middle, an abandoned game on its surface, along with several tumblrs and a carafe of some amber liquid. Very likely whisky, given that the Warden was drinking it.  
Both men looked tired. The Warden rubbed at his eyes, and sat his tumbler town. "I should let you discuss-"  
"Actually, Warden, please stay," the Librarian interrupted him. "I know that you and I aren't really speaking to each other. And I'm realizing that a large part of that is on me. I owe you an apology." She twisted her fingers together nervously.  
The Doctor motioned her a tumbler on the table. "Here, liquid courage," he said.  
"Oh, no, thank you. Every medication I've had says not to drink alcohol. And given how bad my reactions were to so many of the meds, I've never tested what alcohol would do to me."  
"Wait, so many meds?" The Doctor's tone was skeptical. "How many have you taken?"  
The Librarian tilted her head and started ticking her fingers as she calculated. When she passed ten fingers, the Doctor stopped her.  
"Why so many different medications?"  
"It's not so cut and dry as your treatment. It's more like 'Here's a pill that helped other people. It might help you, or it might make it way worse. We just have to try it and see.' And you hope for the best. And sometimes it really improves your mood. And then you try to commit suicide because you finally have the energy."  
"What a fucking barbarous reality you lived in," he spat.  
"Oh, others had it way worse than I did."  
"Well, as your current Doctor, I assure you that you can drink and nothing bad will happen with your medication." When she looked at him skeptically, he replied, "Okay, sweeten the deal. Try the whisky and I'll let you see my real form."  
The Warden's eyebrows shot up. This must be a rare offer. Curiosity overwhelmed her caution, and she took a tiny sip of the amber liquid. It was smokey and warm, tingling as she swallowed. Both men smiled.  
"That was...good," she said at last.  
"And now your reward." The Doctor walked her over to a wall, and pressed a button. It slid back revealing a large glass tank. The tank was hazy, but the Librarian could make out a large wall of circuitry. Stretched over the wall was an organic thing, pearlescent purple and fused to nodes.  
"Hideous, isn't he?" the Warden asked.  
"Different, yes, but not hideous." The Librarian was studying the form, seeing how function surpassed form. She found herself pressing her hand to the glass. "Silicon based life?"  
"Indeed!" The Doctor beamed at her, then motioned back to the chair.  
Before walking away, she faced him. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Doctor. I know letting people see your true self is hard." And without thinking, she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. And then remembered that he was a hologram and this shouldn't be possible. He winked.  
"So what really brought you to my lair?" he asked, sinking back into his chair.  
She chewed at her lip for a moment. "Honestly, I'm lonely. I'm sure the Warden has told you that our relationship is, well, it sucks." She faced the Warden. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's true. And any time either of us tries to be friendly, it just makes it worse. I was hoping maybe a third party might help. I guess I hadn't even considered the fact that you two would already be friends."  
"Do you think that would automatically exclude you?" the Warden asked.  
"Well, kinda. You two have history and an understanding. I'm an outsider." The Librarian chanced another small sip of the whisky. "And sometimes you need time with someone who isn't involved in any other part of your life."  
"I'm sure we could make arrangements," the Doctor started. "A dedicated night, just you and I-"  
"Absolutely not." The Warden's tone was iron.  
"Afraid I'll beat you to the punch?" teased the Doctor.  
The Warden stood and shoved a finger in the Doctor's face. "You are a scoundrel at the best of times. If you think I'm going to leave her alone with you, you're out of your mind!"  
"I feel like I missed something here," the Librarian said. "The Doctor has been very kind and welcoming-"  
"He's been flirting with you."  
"And that's a crime how?" the Librarian demanded. "Sometimes it's nice to feel wanted, in any capacity. And he's a hologram. I think I'm safe."  
"Pretty solid for a hologram, isn't he?" the Warden asked. He was staring daggers at the Doctor.  
"Yes, I have a hard light projector. So what?" He shrugged.  
"It means you can touch and be touched."  
"Touching doesn't always mean feeling, Warden," the Librarian interjected.  
"Oh, no, I made sure to map the neural pathways so that I can experience the same physical things as the form I take," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "It helps me to understand the subject I'm studying."  
Now the Librarian glared at the Doctor as well. "I was trying to defend you," she said.  
"Oh, sweetie, the Warden and I have been at odds with each other as long as we've been friends. But I appreciate you trying." The Doctor winked at her again.  
"Warden?" she asked. "Is that true?"  
He barked a laugh. "Oh, it's true. We see eye-to-eye about twenty percent of the time. And I'm not sure we've ever fully agreed on anything." He sank back into his chair and looked at the Librarian. "And what you've seen tonight is how we are almost all the time."  
"I can certainly say I haven't felt lonely or bored since I walked in," she joked. "Uncomfortable, incensed, confused, yes, but not lonely or bored."  
The Doctor smiled. "Mission accomplished, then. But I don't think that's all you came for. And I imagine you don't want to discuss it in front of the Warden." His blue eyes locked onto hers. "Am I right?"  
"Yes, actually." The Librarian ducked her head a bit, waiting for an angry response from the Warden.  
"Fair enough," was his reply. He set the tumbler on the chair arm and stood again. "If he tries anything, you tell me immediately. In fact, please check in with me when you come home." And with that, the Warden left without another word.


	18. 18

You hate him but you're afraid you're falling in love," the Doctor said once they were alone.  
"What? No!" The Librarian shouted, face turning beet red. "Why would you- never mind. I found something and I wanted to discuss it with someone but the Warden gets so..." She trailed off, trying to think of a polite way of saying it.  
"Bull headed? Asshole-ish? Overly defensive about things that don't actually affect him?" the Doctor supplied.  
The Librarian laughed hard. "Yes," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.  
"And what you found is sensitive?" he continued.  
"Absolutely. It's something that changes how I look at this place." She reached into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out a small book. It was a rather plain if worn green leather cover with no visible writing. She held it out to him.  
The Doctor took it from her, and opened it. "I can't read this language," he said almost immediately.  
She took the volume back. "I can't honestly say I'm surprised. Even with all your access to information, I didn't think this would be something that you could read. But I wanted to be sure."  
"So what is it?" he asked, leaning forward.  
"How familiar are you with archetypes?" the Librarian asked.  
"Well, I know that's what we're basically embodying here," he replied. "That they're the pinnacle of what a thing is supposed to be."  
She nodded. "And this volume lists desired archetypical positions for the Prison, what responsibilities they would entail, and what abilities that person would have."  
"Suggested abilities? Like a potential candidate should have these qualities?"  
"No." She smiled slowly. "When a person is named to one of these positions, they are given these abilities. Like my ability to read this book. I might be the only person aside from the author who can read this."  
He sat back in his chair, frowning slightly. "Let me guess. There are abilities and powers listed there that we don't know we have." She nodded. "And some of these might upset the status quo."  
"They'd shatter it if used certain ways. Just having the book is undermining it."  
"And you're conflicted because?"  
The Librarian took a deep breath. "Having this knowledge has already given me power. Sharing its existence has given you power, even if you don't know what it says. Sharing it with the Warden poses problems. He's rigid in what he will accept as right and true to the position. But if I don't tell him, I feel like I'm being subversive. I could manipulate him into doing things simply because I have the knowledge he lacks. But that makes me as bad as the system."  
"Quite the conundrum," the Doctor mused. "What do you feel is the right path?"  
"I have to tell him eventually. But not now. Not with how we are." She tapped her fingers on the chair arm. "I want to mend things between us, but every time one of us tries, things end up so much worse."  
The Doctor rubbed at his stubble, deep in thought. The soft rasp was the only sound in the room. After several moments, he shook off his reverie and stood.  
"I don't have an answer for this. But you trusted me enough to bring me a secret, and I appreciate that. And I'd like to give you something in return." He walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out another small book. This one was black leather with no writing on the cover. "I found this shortly after arriving here. I've never been able to figure out what it is. But I have a feeling you can. Any chance I could have you look into it and bring me a translation?"  
The Librarian's eyes were locked on the book. She let her focus soften. She could sense similar vibrations from that book as the one in her pocket. "Deal." She snatched the book from his hand and caressed it.  
"And this stays between us? The Warden doesn't get involved?"  
"Depending on what it says, yes. But if I have to, your name isn't part of that conversation. Fair enough?" She cocked an eyebrow at him.  
"Acceptable terms. If I remember, your species seals deals with a handshake, correct?" The Doctor offered his hand. She grasped it and shook firmly.  
"Thank you, Doctor," she said.

When he heard the door to the apartment open, the Warden set down his book and walked to the library doors. The Librarian was reading while walking and nearly walked into him.  
"Oh! I'm sorry, sir!" she exclaimed, clutching the book to her chest.  
"It's quite alright," he replied. "Did the Doctor behave himself?"  
"Yes. We had a nice discussion about my problem and I have a better idea how to deal with it. Thank you for understanding."  
He frowned. "I wish you would come to me with your problems." He felt his hand start to rise and fought to keep it at his side.  
"Someday, sir. We'll get there someday." She stepped away. "Good night."  
The Warden watched her walk up the steps, nose back in the book before she was even halfway up. He shook his head. It was a start, he supposed.


	19. 19

One evening the Warden decided to try to reach out to her. He wasn't sure where to start, but he had to do something. This was worse than being alone all the time.  
After supper, he lit the fire. The Librarian was at her desk, reading through some dusty tome she had found. He cleared his throat.  
"I thought perhaps we could talk this evening," he started.   
"Hmm, about what?" she replied, not looking up.  
"Well, you haven't told me anything about your research. Or how your work is coming in the warehouse. Or how you are."  
"I didn't think you'd be interested." She didn't look up from her book.  
"Oh? I am. Very much so, actually. You're the first companion I've had since the Doctor in over three hundred years."  
The Librarian finally lay the book down. She carefully placed a bookmark in her place and closed the cover. "Alright." Her tone was cold and her gaze hard.  
"Please," he gestured to the wing chairs. "I'm sure these are more comfortable than your current chair. And it's certainly warmer."  
"You'll forgive me if I'm leery, Warden. Past experiences have taught me to be so."  
"That is something I'd very much like to discuss." He carefully kept his voice soft and inviting. "That night is something I truly regret. And knowing that your past was violent, it was unforgivable. But I want to show you I'm not like that."  
She snorted. "Yeah, I've never heard this speech before," she retorted, her voice dripping sarcasm. She carried on, clearly mimicking her past abuser's phrases. "I didn't mean it, baby. You know how jealous I get. It was the beer, it won't happen again. If you didn't do that, I wouldn't get so mad. Why do you keep asking for it? You deserve this, you fucking whore." Tears were streaming down her face by this last.  
At each phrase, the Warden felt a stab of pity and anger. Not toward her, but at the man who had done this to her. He had no idea how he would get her to forgive him.  
"So, you'll forgive me for being cautious. I know you aren't him, but everyone has that potential in my mind now. And I will never go back to living like that. NEVER!" She slammed her hand on the desk.  
"Then tell me what I can do." He wasn't sure when he started to care about this so much. He was supposed to be detached.  
The Librarian crossed the room to him. "You promised to never touch me again. Do you still promise that?"  
"I do," he answered huskily.  
"Can you respect me?"  
He huffed a small laugh. "I already do."  
She looked him in the eyes, long and hard. "Then we will try a conversation tonight." She brushed past him and sat in the wing chair to the left of the fireplace. The Warden let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and sat in the chair across from her. He studied her face for a moment. She was carrying herself with a pride that hadn't been there before.  
"Your research into the Guardians. Have you learned anything new?"  
"Oh, not really. Vague references are the most I've been able to come across. Same for the Architect, oddly enough. You would think someone that was so highly regarded would have more information about him available. But no real name, no hint of origin, of where he studied, of what school of design he subscribed to, nothing. It's like someone took the time to bury him. Maybe literally, if some of the texts are to be believed."  
"A true man of mystery. And he's linked to the Guardians?"  
"Rumors, mostly. Nothing consistent. And nothing that gives me even the vaguest clue of what to do with Shadow. But he's still alive and growing after a month with me, so I must be doing something right." She patted her leg and he came trotting over from his usual spot under her desk. He was much larger than he had been, but was still quite small when compared with the other Guardians. The Librarian had to use both hands to scoop him up and place him in her lap. His too-red tongue lolled from his mouth, his single large eye fixed on the Warden.  
"He has grown quite a bit, indeed," the Warden replied. He was still uneasy around the beast, but not the way he had been before. There was less distrust of violence and more a sense that the demon could sense his motivations. "Have there been any other themes that have repeated themselves?"  
"Yes, actually. There have been multiple mentions of a vault. That there is evidence hidden there about the Architect and that it could hold the clues to his disappearance. But there is no indication of where this vault might be located, or how to access it once you find it."  
They lapsed into silence, each contemplating what she had just said. The Librarian was trying to determine what kind of secrets such a place would hide, and if they were worth unlocking if all references to them were so cryptic. The Warden was thinking of the vault. He'd found it years ago but was never able to solve the first of many locks that protected it. Was he ready to discover what it held? And could she be the one to unlock it?  
"That certainly sounds...intriguing," he said at last.  
"I fear that is still well out of my grip. And for right now, I'm okay with that. There are too many secrets in this place. Finding more or finding the truth feels like a bad idea."  
"Why? Wouldn't you like finding the answers to these questions?"  
"Honestly, no. Things hidden that deeply have been hidden for a reason. Sometimes it's best to let the past stay buried."  
"I'm not sure I completely agree," the Warden countered. "Things don't stay buried, no matter how hard we try. Bodies, lies, experiences, they all seem to find their way into the light."  
The Librarian hopped out of her seat and walked to the window. It was pitch black out, but she stared into the darkness anyway. The window reflected the room, so she saw the Warden walk up behind her. He came very close to her, but did not touch her.  
"If I were able to drag that deplorable man out of the Collector so that I could beat him for what he did to you-" he started.  
"No." She cut him off. "The best revenge against someone like that is to move on and make the best life for yourself you can." She turned to face him. "And while this isn't an ideal setting, I'm going to try my best."  
"I think you've made an admirable start," he said softly. Without thought, he raised his hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. She froze, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.  
"You promised," she whispered.  
"I did," he whispered back, not removing his hand. Her face was so soft against his fingers. He traced them up gently to her hair, fighting the urge to run them through the strands. With an effort, he removed his hand. Her eyes were still closed.  
"I think- yes, I think I should retire for the night," she said. Her eyes fluttered open and she stepped back.  
"Thank you for talking with me."  
"Thank you for making me. Good night, Warden."  
"Good night, Librarian." He turned and went back to the fire as she climbed the iron steps and left the library.

As her footsteps died away, the Warden was left alone with his thoughts. Everything felt upside down. His intent had only been to get her to talk to him again. Maybe to befriend her. She wasn't a game piece to be manipulated. And he regretted ever thinking of her that way. But somewhere in all of this, he started having feelings for her.  
The backs of his fingers tingled where they had stroked her cheek. He closed his eyes, letting his mind replay that moment. Gods above, he'd been ready to kiss her. And he knew that if that chance came again, he would. This was a complication that wasn't going to help his plans.


	20. 20

The previous awkwardness had been replaced. The new awkwardness was better though. Meals weren't as quiet, working together was no longer barely tolerable. Small talk and the occasional joke fell into place naturally. And, from time to time, the Warden would push his luck against his promise not to touch her. A brushing of fingers as a document was passed. The bump of arms as they maneuvered about the kitchen. And the Librarian allowed it, or at least did not comment on it.  
During dinner one night, she asked him about his past. "We talk about me more than I like. What about you? What do you remember?"  
"I honestly don't have the memories. I know I'm human, Terran, but not your realm. Sometimes you'll talk about something and I'll think, 'No, that's not right. We had-' and then my memory fuzzes up and I don't know what the difference was. Just that it was different."  
"Do you know why these memories are missing?"  
"There are many reasons. Some of it was what happened to you, the natural process of this place taking away who you are. But," he paused, unsure of how to go on. The Librarian reached across the table and stroked his hand. Their eyes met. "The Council is not the most ethical body. I've meddled in their plans before and they've taken my memories as punishment. I don't know if the Doctor is complicit or if their magic is just that good. The only reason I know it even happened is because of that ledger hidden in my desk. I left myself notes, just in case."  
"They have that much power?" she asked.  
"I think they think so. And they have access to resources we don't." He rolled his hand so that he could hold hers. "They're ruthless. And I worry they're going to use you against me. At first I thought as a spy. Now I think they would hurt you to get to me. I should have a guard with you when you work in the warehouse."  
"And if the guard was in their pay?" She squeezed his hand. "Shadow stays with me when I'm there. He'll keep me as safe as he can."

The little black book from the Doctor proved to be most interesting. It was a collection of esoterica on memory spells and charms through time. Nothing was definitive, no spells were complete, but the Librarian had resources. The library had little enough to fill the gaps, but the small study next to her room was a treasure trove of information. Most afternoons and evening were spent in translation. It would take longer than she liked, but she was making two copies. One was a direct translation for the Doctor; the other held her notes and attempts at completing partial information.  
Slow progress frustrated her further when she found a partial spell for restoring memory. The magic system referenced was not one that she had much information available on. But there was a resource that she could turn to.  
Seven Eyes was willing to meet with her in the study. They were the only Guardian besides Shadow that would even enter the apartments. They seemed disturbed by the tome when the Librarian showed them.  
_Where did you acquire this?_ they asked.  
"I have a source. And another book, as well." The Librarian pulled out the green tome as well.  
_You are able to read these?_  
"So far, yes. But there is a part of this spell that I can't finish." She opened the book to the appropriate page. Their eyes narrowed.  
_You are playing with fire, child. You realize what this spell would do?_  
"Restore my memories and take away any false ones. It would let me be me again."  
_Do you not see the dangers there? How you could lose yourself by trying to regain yourself?_  
"I am willing to take that chance, Seven. I'm tired of being scared all the time. And I'm tired of being a mouse. If that's truly who I am, then okay. But if I'm not, if I'm so much more... I'll take the risk."  
_Then I shall do what I can to help._ They closed their eyes and lay down. One eye, golden yellow, slid open. It rolled toward the book, reviewing the spell. Then, breathing deeply, they cast the spell.  


The Librarian woke up on the floor of the study. Her whole body hurt. Seven Eyes was gone, but both books were on the table with a note. She pushed herself up and walked over, stretching as she walked.  
_I have a favor to ask in return. If you're willing to take risks, meet me in the warehouse in ten days time._  
She had gained something today. Respect from at least one Guardian was worth more than gold. And then the Librarian realized she remembered the spell. And who she used to be. The knowledge dropped her to her knees. Who she was flooded back. No name; that had been traded when she took the mantle of Librarian. But before. She had been a student, yes, but not a struggling one. Her relationship with Josh had been slowing down, but it wasn't abusive. Her parents had been loving and supportive. She was a fun-loving, easy-going woman who liked to tease her friends. She had been confident and outgoing.  
And then the true memories of coming to the Prison came back. She and Josh had been for a walk. They had walked through that gate she was always afraid of. And then they were somewhere else. The sky was overcast with lightning flickering on the horizon. There was a massive stone building in front of them. As they headed toward it, the skies opened and it began to pour rain. They ran for the doors, which opened easily under their pounding hands. And then something took Josh, pulling him away before she could grab hold of him. He disappeared into the darkness, screaming.  
The Warden was there. He told her that there was nothing he could do. He took her to the infirmary, and the Doctor examined her. Her arms were covered in small scars, which the Doctor seemingly erased with a laser. A small tattoo of a lily on her foot was also lasered away. And then... something took the memory of any of this happening. The three of them froze as their memories were altered. The Warden drifted away, presumably back to his office. The Doctor's hologram shut down. Guards took her to the chamber of the Collector, where the Warden "found" her. And then it all began.  
It was all lies. It was all truth. It was both. But why? The Librarian ground her teeth in frustration. Another mystery to dig into. She was certain the answers were all here, scattered around like puzzle pieces. She was certain everything had to fit together eventually, but with each new piece, she was becoming less and less sure. She sat at the table, pulled her copy of notes over, and quickly wrote the rest of the spell down, using the original language of the tome. She did not include the translation in the Doctor's copy.


	21. 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for suicide attempt

"So, I've been thinking," the Librarian said. They were sharing dinner about a week later.  
"All you do is think. It can't be good for you," he teased.  
"Oh, it's not. But this might be useful. You said anyone who isn't a prisoner or titled staff can come and go from here as they please, right?"  
"Yes. What is this?" He held up his fork, a piece of meat on the end.  
"Bison, now don't change the subject. Have the Council members ever stepped foot in this place?"  
He chewed, thinking. Swallowing he said, "No, I can't recall any of them ever coming. Why do you ask?"  
She traced patterns in the myoglobin and melted butter around her steak. "And you said that V'saass had a proposal you didn't agree with?"  
"His plans are so much more work with very little reward. It's embarrassing, really. But he's going to do his best to ram it through."  
"Do the Council members ever meet in person?"  
"Not that I'm aware of. Where are you going with this, Librarian?"  
"A meeting. The Council meeting very formally over a lavish supper that we host. Let V'saass make his proposal in person. You can gauge the rest of their reactions so much better in person. And that might give you more leverage."  
"You're planning something." The Warden dropped his cutlery with a clatter and gave her a disapproving stare.  
"You have a better chance of outright shutting him down, or agreeing with the caveat that at least one non-violent parole applicant in every twenty or so is actually granted their parole."  
"To what end?" he asked, exasperated.  
"Hope. For the prisoners and for us. A tiny rock can change the flow of a mighty river."  
He drummed his fingers on the table, meal forgotten. "They won't accept it. Any threat to their income is something they want to destroy. And they might try to destroy you with it."  
The Librarian's face fell. "Are they so far gone?"  
He chuckled bitterly. "Money and power and hate are their driving forces. We would stand as much chance against them as a paper umbrella in a thunderstorm." He reached across the table and patted her hand. "Your innocence and optimism are inspiring. But they aren't the weapons we need in this fight. Keep track of your information, but keep it somewhere safe. It may help us in the future."

  


Another two weeks passed uneventfully. On their off day, the Warden was preparing breakfast when Shadow came rushing into the kitchen, an unholy noise coming from his mouth. It was a shrieking cry that raised the hair on the Warden's neck.  
"What is it?" he cried. The Guardian jumped at him and ran out of the kitchen. The Warden followed close behind. They raced up the steps to the Librarian's room. Shadow leapt at the door, bouncing against it. The Warden felt his blood turn cold. He knocked, but there was no answer.  
He pounded against the door. "Librarian!" he cried. Again, no answer. He tried the knob and found it unlocked. Throwing the door open he charged into the room. "Librarian!" he called again. The room appeared empty. He walked past the bed, heading for the bathroom. The door was partly closed, steam swirling in the light. He took a deep breath and pushed it open.  
The Librarian was sitting on the floor, wrapped in a towel. Her left arm was covered in blood, her eyes unfocused. In her right hand was a broken piece of mirror, its edge ragged and bloody.  
The Warden grabbed a hand towel. "No, no, no, no, no," he kept repeating, unaware that he was even speaking. He pulled her arm up, looking for the source of the blood. Her upper arm was covered in a series of shallow gashes, and a long running ran down the length of her forearm. He quickly wrapped the towel around it, then pried the mirror piece from her hand.  
"Worthless," she murmured as he tended to her. "No reason for you."  
"Shh, no." He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He unwrapped the towel on her arm. Blood welled up immediately. "Fuck," he whispered, fumbling for his tablet. He punched the icon for Medical, leaving a smear of blood on the screen.  
"Warden, long time-" the Doctor began.  
"No banter! The Librarian is hurt and the bleeding isn't stopping!" he shouted at the device.  
"Emergency portal activated, bring her in," the Doctor replied calmly. A blue-green swirl of light opened next to the bed. The Warden picked her back up and stepped through, straight to Medical. He lay her on the nearest exam table as the med robot and the Doctor's hologram approached.  
"What happened?" the Doctor asked.  
"I think she might have tried to kill herself," the Warden mumbled, sinking to the floor. "She was doing so well and then-"  
"What in the nineteen planes of Hell did she use?"  
"A piece of broken mirror." He stared at the blood on his hands.  
The Doctor murmured commands to the robot, who drew a sample of blood before beginning to clean the wounds. The Doctor hissed, "We're going to have to abrade these. There are bits of glass embedded-"  
"Don't tell me. Just, do what you have to do." The Warden closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm himself. Then he pushed himself up and came to the exam table. He stood out of the way, but took the Librarian's right hand in both of his. He squeezed gently.  
"I don't understand," the Doctor grumbled. "These should have sealed. But the nanobots in her system aren't responding. It's like they've gone dormant. Get a transfusion and a sedative," he barked at the med robot. The robot stepped away, returning with a bag of blood. It quickly located a vein and inserted the needle, starting the transfusion. It pulled out a syringe and added a small amount of liquid to the flow. Then it began to stitch up the deepest of the cuts.  
The Librarian stirred as the first stitches pierced her flesh. Her eyes flickered, then opened. "Ow," she whispered. Her eyes focused on the Warden's face. "What did I do?"  
"I was hoping you could tell me," he answered softly. One hand came up and stroked her hair.  
"I don't know." She leaned into his touch. The Warden looked at the Doctor who nodded.  
"Scans show a surge of dark magic about an hour ago," the Doctor confirmed. "Attempting to trace." An amber light swept over the Librarian, and a mark appeared on her left shoulder. It was livid as a bruise, the interlocked sigils almost obscuring each other.  
The Warden's face darkened. He gently pulled his hands away and began sketching the sigils separately. They were familiar, and he knew who might be behind this. They would pay for it. But it would have to wait.  
"You will let me know if you find anything else, yes?" the Warden asked the Doctor, his eyes still locked on hers.  
"The moment it hits my systems," the Doctor replied. His usually placid gaze was slightly unfocused but still intent; the Warden guessed he was running through more than one program as he was talking.  
The Warden leaned in and kissed her, softly. "They will pay dearly." And he stalked from the room.

The Doctor watched the Warden storm away. "That bastard just cost me five thousand credits. I thought for sure it was going to take at least another week before he gave in." His hologram shimmered and he resumed the scruffy form he had taken when they had first met. "Now, you. How with it are you?"  
The Librarian winced as the med robot started another row of stitches. "Sleepy. Cold."  
"Blood loss will do that to you. And the transfusion isn't helping, but we have to keep it cold to preserve it." He projected himself a stool and eased onto it. "Now, you have a chunk of time missing. You were in the shower, and then it goes blank?"  
"Yes."  
"But you still put on a towel before carving your arm up. I find that odd." A computer beeped somewhere close. "Ah, that's less than ideal. Doctor to Warden, call mode."  
"What?" the Warden answered tersely.  
"The magic carried code that rendered the nanobots inert. This person knew what to expect and how to beat it."  
"I figured as much. Any other clues?"  
"I think this was hired out to deflect attention from the real assailant. If it looks obvious, it's probably a decoy."  
"Understood." The line went dead.  
"My first casualty in the war, you're nearly patched up." The Doctor stood and looked over the stitch work. The med robot wiped down the area, then began to apply a dressing. "You'll recover fairly quickly. Now go ahead and sleep. I have more work to do."  
The Librarian’s already heavy eyes drifted closed.  
The Doctor sighed. Then he nodded to the med robot. It brought him a new tool, and the Doctor began the arduous task of inscribing sigils of protection on the Librarian’s chest and back.


	22. 22

The Librarian was wrapped in a blanket when the Warden returned to Medical. She was still pale, but she was upright and alive. He crossed the room and gently cradled her face in his hands. He looked her deep in the eye and kissed her again. This kiss was slow but insistent, his hands drifting up to tangle in her hair. She gave in easily, kissing back with equal passion. Slowly he broke off the kiss.  
"We know who it is, and they will burn for this. You and I will destroy them." As he spoke, his hands tightened in her hair. And he kissed her again. The Doctor cleared his throat, and the two reluctantly pulled apart.  
"Your suspicions were confirmed then, Warden?" he asked.  
"Yes. V'Saarr is involved and trying to pull down anyone else he thinks he can."  
The Warden pulled the Librarian's blanket to the side. Over her heart was a tattooed sigil of protection. He dropped a kiss onto it, then walked behind her and admired the series of interlocking sigils across her shoulders.  
"Excellent work, Doctor. And now I assume you will do the same for me?" He pulled off his shirt and sat next to the Librarian. She glanced, pure curiosity overriding her politeness. His inner forearms had long, thick scars running from elbow to wrist.  
"Gladly. Do you believe these will work?" The Doctor raised his tattoo gun.  
"They should. Or at least enough to slow down whatever they try next time." He flinched as the first sigil began appearing on his chest. The Librarian took his hand.  
"Is it really going to be war?" she asked.  
"Indeed. There are members of the council who think they are above the law and above consequences. You and I are going to show them otherwise. Tonight-"  
"Tomorrow," the doctor interrupted. "She needs rest and at least one large meal. Revenge can wait until after breakfast."  
The Warden smiled. "Indeed it can. Tonight, we open the compartment. And tomorrow, we go to the Vault."  
"The compartment? I get to see the book?" The Librarian's voice was full of hope.  
"I honestly thought you'd be more intrigued by the Vault," he teased.  
"The Vault hasn't been sitting on the other side of the room, calling to me every time I think about the Guardians or the Architect," she retorted. "And I know that book has the answers I want."  
"So focused on that," he mused.  
"The answers to everything come back to the Architect," she insisted. "If I can unlock him, the rest will start to make sense."  
"If you two don’t mind, I am done, and I’d like my infirmary backI," the Doctor interrupted. "Librarian, you keep those stitches protected and dry. You should really rest up for a few days, but I know how the Warden is when he gets that look. Just be careful."  
"I assure you, Doctor, I intend to take very good care of her," the Warden said.

The walk back to their apartments was slow, but neither seemed to mind. Their fingers were intertwined, and they both smiled. Shadow met them at the door, circling them in excitement. His long face was split into a canine grin, and he pressed against her side. The Librarian knelt down and hugged him. The Warden motioned her to the kitchen.  
"I'm in a thin blanket and damp towel. Can I please have real clothes before we eat?" she asked.  
He didn't answer, just scooped her into his arm and started up the stairs.  
"I can walk!" she protested.  
"I'm aware of that." He nudged open the door to his room. The warm air rushed out to embrace them, and he stepped inside.  
The room smelled of him - leather and the sharp spice of his soap, wood smoke and old books. It was also more richly appointed than she would have imagined. A four poster bed of dark wood that was piled high with soft pillows and blankets. An overstuffed couch in front of the fireplace, afghan draped over the back and a lumpy pillow propped against one arm. Bookshelves built into the walls, filled with a hodgepodge of books in various levels of disrepair. He lay her on the sofa, and pulled the afghan over her.  
"I'll go get you something to wear. But I don't want you to see the- the mess in your room." The Warden's voice broke a little. "I'm guessing warm and comfortable?"  
"Yes, please. And can you grab my tablet off the bedside table? Just in case we need it."  
"Of course." He leaned down and kissed her, brushing his nose against hers as he pulled away.  
Her room was as bad as he figured it would be. The bed had a fair amount of blood on the linens, and a dripping trail from the bathroom to the bed. He didn't even look in the bathroom. Instead he opened her wardrobe and quickly fished out clothing he knew she liked. He grabbed the tablet, and left, resisting the urge to slam the door.  
Shadow sat in the hallway, watching him. The Warden dropped to one knee. "I was wrong about you. You saved her life. Thank you." The Guardian trotted over and pressed his forehead to the man's. There was a moment of understanding between them, and the Warden affectionately rubbed the top of Shadow's head. His fur was becoming more smoke-like as he grew. As the Warden pulled away, he noticed something else. There were new contours to the Guardian's skull. Shadow was growing more eyes.


	23. 23

The Librarian found herself starting to drift off after the Warden left. The couch was soft, she was finally warming up, and she hadn't felt this level of content and cared for in years. When the door opened, she had to force her eyes open. The Warden quickly placed her clothing on the bed and turned to the nearest bookshelf. He flipped through several books before finding what he wanted. It looked rather like a bookmark from where she lay. He stepped out of the room, and A bright flash of light came from the hallway.  
The Warden came back into the room. "I put a seal on your room. Since that one was breached, I don't trust it. And you're asleep."  
"Not yet," she mumbled back.  
"I'll go make us something to eat. You sleep; I'll be here when you wake up. And Shadow isn't going to leave your side, right?"   
Shadow made a chuffing noise, and climbed onto her legs. The Librarian mumbled again, but sleep overtook her before she could form the words.  
The Warden tucked her in tightly. He felt the need to sleep, his adrenaline crash leaving him shaking slightly. Food would wait. He crawled into his bed, and drifted off a few minutes later.

Dinner was a lingering affair. The Librarian's inability to use her left arm slowed her, but a leisurely meal after a stressful day let them have some peace.  
After dinner, they retired to the library. The Warden insisted on the Librarian resting on the couch. He retrieved the ledger from his desk and brought it to her. She lay it on her lap, stroking the cover reverently as he pulled one of the chairs close to sit beside her.  
"Are you ready for this?" she asked quietly. "It might not be what either of us wants to hear."  
"Whether it is or not, we need to know."  
She took a deep breath, opened the book and began to read.  
 _The Architect was a cunning man. He was an explorer of some renown even before he became known for his unique buildings that melded magic and technology more seamlessly than any of his contemporaries. Many suspected chicanery on his part, and I believe they were right.  
The Prison was originally his idea, pitched to a group of influential merchants and low-level politicians. It was a solution to crime and the ethical objections to execution - an inescapable planet where every sentence could be a life sentence. It was also proposed to be a source of slave labor. If the worst of the worst were the prisoners, who could object to making them work in penance for their crimes?  
No one questioned the location of the Prison, and the funds rolled in rapidly. But the Architect had chosen this planet specifically because of its primary inhabitant: The Collector. The Collector could grant power to the Architect and feast on the incoming prisoners, gaining knowledge and power itself.  
But it was deceived. The Architect's studies had allowed him to trap the Collector, utilizing its power but preventing it from gaining influence. He then created the Guardians to keep watch over the whole of the Prison, looking for signs that the Collector was breaking free. To strengthen these beings, he found spirits on the planet that were guardians of nature and small places of power. He soul-bonded with these beings to increase their power and to be able to report to him instantaneously.  
Whether he had forgotten or did not know, soul-bonds do not just tie two beings together. They allow them to take from each other. And having bonded with so many creatures, the Architect quickly lost control. They grew and took more and more from him, diminishing him. He disappeared shortly after this time.  
All records that the Architect created and kept are stored in the Vault. Its locks are only able to be opened by one of his descendants. As of this writing, it is unknown if he had any._  
The room was silent, save the crackle of the fire. The Librarian ran her fingers over the page, reading it again. She had her answers about the Guardians, but the news about the Vault was disheartening. And how did the Collector fit into this? It brought her here, despite being bound away. Was the magic weakening?  
She snapped the book closed and sat up, feet on the floor. Putting her face in her hands, she sighed heavily.  
"Don't despair," the Warden said. "We found more answers than we thought."  
The Librarian slid her hands down to peer at him. "I'm not despairing! This answers so many questions! I just have to figure out how they connect."  
"Is your brain running in circles?" he asked, mischievously.  
"Yes. And I can't bake with only one arm."  
"Come with me. I think I can distract you," he said, pulling her to her feet. He dropped a series of kisses down her jaw. "And I know you'll enjoy it."


	24. 25

The Librarian awoke the next morning in a fog. This was not her room. She turned her head to the left. The Warden lay next to her, breathing softly. She smiled as it came back to her. A delicious distraction indeed. She slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and groaned.  
The bandages around her left arm were spotted with blood. The sigil of protection on her chest stood out like a brand against her pale skin. Her hair looked like she'd been in a wind storm, the bags under her eyes were dark purple. And she was covered with hickeys and bite marks.  
She quickly relieved herself, then wondered where she could find replacement bandages. She touched the spots. The blood was dry, so it could wait. She eased herself back into bed, trying not to disturb the Warden.  
"Good morning my dear," he murmured, opening his eyes lazily.  
"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked.  
"No. But if you had, it's a rather pleasant way to wake up." He smiled, and traced a finger over the marks on her neck. "It seems I lost a bit of self control last night."  
She shivered at his touch. He smirked, and rolled up on his elbow and cupped her face. His kiss was gentle and slow. When he flicked his tongue against her lip, she whimpered. The Warden took it as a sign of encouragement, this time sliding his tongue just past her lips, teasing. Then he pulled back, still smirking.  
The Librarian whimpered again, frustrated this time. "Are you going to make me beg?"  
"I rather enjoyed it last night," he purred. "The sounds you made were something I'll savor for a very long time. But you don't need to beg." His lips found hers and within moments, they were lost in each other again.  


"Isn't today a work day?" the Librarian asked over breakfast.  
"Yes, but after yesterday, I thought we deserved a real day off," the Warden replied, pouring her coffee.  
"Do you have everything planned?" she teased.  
"No. I thought we would go to the Vault and see what happened."  
She sipped at the brew, thoughtful and quiet for the moment. "I want to go see the Collector first," she said at last. The Warden nearly choked on his coffee.  
"Are you mad?" he sputtered.  
"Probably. I think it's going to have answers that even the Vault can't disclose. And we're more likely to find the Guardians there as well."  
"Why do you need the Guardians?"  
"They were soul-bonded to the Architect. They also know more than they're saying. I have suspicions and theories for everything, but I need more information for anything to come together."  
The Warden shook his head. "I'm bedding a crazy woman," he said with a rueful smile.  
"Would you want me any other way?" She winked.  
"I suppose not. Do you have a plan if everything goes wrong?"  
"Run like hell?" the Librarian suggested.  
"Totally barking mad," he said with a shake of his head.

The way down to the Collector's chamber was longer than she remembered. The passages were just as stark, just as poorly lit, but it was worse. This was walking into the lion's den with very little faith for a shield.  
"It's not too late to change your mind," the Warden reminded her as they stepped off the second elevator.  
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," the Librarian shot back.  
"It has nothing to do with my confidence in you. Right now you look like you could chew steel and spit nails. I worry about how it's going to react to you."  
"I plan on trying tact and kindness. The Architect didn't seem to be big on either of those, so maybe the Collector will at least be intrigued enough to talk to me."  
They walked a few minutes in silence. She could see the glow of the outer chamber now. Bravado was all well and good, but the closer they got, the more afraid she was becoming. This was your bright idea. Time to put your money where your mouth is, she thought glumly.  
As they entered the outer chamber, the Librarian immediately became aware of being watched. There were at least a dozen Guardians in the shadows. The Warden grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Then he walked over to the doors and began the process of unlocking them. Shadow wavered between them, but she shooed him to stand with the Warden.  
The massive doors swung open silently, blue light spilling down the steps. The Librarian took a calming breath, then walked into the light.

She hadn't actually seen the chamber the last time she had been in it. The room was circular, and the floor was actually a platform that only extended into the room by about twenty feet. The Librarian walked to the end of the platform, looking around to see where this legendary creature was.  
Up here. The voice sounded in her head like gong. She looked up and gasped. The blue glow came from a massive tank. There were shapes moving through the glow, indistinct and quicksilver fast.  
"You-" Her voice stuck and she cleared her throat. "You are the being known as the Collector?"  
I am. And you are the girl I brought.  
"I am. I am now called the Librarian."  
It chuckled. You found your Warden's notes, didn't you? And you come to me for answers.  
"I see there is no slipping things past you. I did find his notes. The Arch-"  
You will NOT say that name in my presence. The voice thundered, dropping her to her knees in pain. The answers you want are in the Vault. Now leave me until you find a way to release me. And the glow began to fade.  
The Librarian knew she was defeated here. She retreated with as much speed as dignity would allow. As she cleared the doors, she heard the Warden reactivating the locks. She let her rubbery legs give way and slumped to the steps.  
"Your ears," the Warden said, wiping at them with his handkerchief. It came away bloody.  
"You didn't hear it?" she asked. He shook his head. "Be grateful. I almost mentioned the A- someone I shouldn't have and it reacted badly."  
"You tried though. That took courage."  
"I suppose so. What do you think, Seven Eyes?" the Librarian looked past him to the gloom. After a moment, the Guardian materialized.  
_Well done, Librarian._ The Warden started, and the Librarian knew he could hear it this time. _Not many would willingly face the Collector and then call out a Guardian._ It prowled closer as it spoke, radiating menace. Soon it was standing between them and the door out.  
"I'm a rare breed," she said, feigning confidence.  
The Guardian chuckled. It sounded like tiny bones being shaken in a clay cup. _Rarer than you know. Go to the Vault. You'll get your answers._ And it melted back into the shadows. The two humans exchanged a look and made for the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the previous chapter has been removed. I wasn't really happy with the writing anyway, and the smut felt both out of place and distracting. The implication is enough for our purposes.


	25. 26

"I can't believe you stared down a Guardian!" The Warden was panting slightly. They had run all the way from the outer chamber to the elevator.  
"I can't believe it either!" the Librarian exclaimed. She sank down to the floor. This ride up took several minutes and she was determined to rest. Her left arm was throbbing painfully.  
The Warden sat next to her. "The Vault is going to seem tame after this."  
She took his hand. "Good. The last twenty-seven hours have been far too eventful. Although I definitely enjoyed some of it."  
The rest of the ride was quiet. When they reached the next set of corridors, the lights seemed different. Shadow growled softly, stepping in front of them. Black smoke oozed from the ceiling, coalescing into a hound-like head. It's eyes were orange and it had three mouths.  
_Take care with that Vault. The Architect was a liar and a deceiver._ The voice hissed in both of their heads. Then it laughed, a crazed burbling sound, and oozed back into the stone. The lights slowly returned to their normal color, but the humans still didn't move.  
"We can't stay here all day," the Librarian said at last. She started walking, faster than normal, and the Warden joined her. The second elevator ride wasn't as long, but their silence made it seem longer than the first. The chamber stopped and the doors slid open. They were at the warehouse.  
"It's not far," the Warden said.  
"It was practically under my nose, again?" she asked, incredulous.  
"If it's any consolation, you wouldn't have stumbled across it by accident," he replied.  
They walked down the main aisle, the Warden silently counting. He suddenly turned to the right, and the Librarian was forced to walk behind him as the aisles between the tables were much more narrow. Row upon row upon row went past, blurring her sense of time and distance as they walked. And then there it was. In the midst of the room was a huge stone structure. The doors were some type of metal. Intricately carved panels were set into the door and the areas beside them.  
The Librarian up to the doors, examining the carvings.  
"That panel to the left is the first lock," the Warden said. It was a two foot by two foot square panel covered in vines and flowers. Hidden within the foliage were three lizards. She looked at the panel, plucked out the lizards and set them in three new places. The panel flashed green, and then became black.  
"Did you- did you just solve that?" he asked in shock.  
She shrugged, cradling her injured arm. The Warden took her arm and gently pushed up the sleeve. Her wound was bleeding again.  
"This will wait. We're going back to Medical." His tone brooked no argument, and she was too tired to fight him on it anyway.

"I don't understand!" The Doctor had lost his patience. When they had arrived, the Librarian slipped her arm out of her sleeve to reveal several bloody points. The med robot carefully cut through the bandaging to reveal nothing. No damage, no evidence of bleeding.  
"I think I do," the Librarian said. "My arm didn't hurt until we got to the Vault. I think my blood is the key."  
"Why would that-" the Warden began.  
"Because it's over the top dramatic! What else has any of this been, if not stupidly dramatic with very little payoff?" she replied, exasperated.  
"She's got a fair point, Warden," the Doctor chimed in. He was in his "default" form, face thoughtful. "Her arrival, the appearance of the Guardians, the...tension...between the two of you," his eyes flickered to the marks on her neck, "and now all this running around and cryptic nonsense. Had the Council made any indication of their latest scheme before the Librarian came?"  
The Warden's forehead wrinkled. "No. And as far as schemes go, it's rather pathetic. Far more work than profit."  
"All of this suggests an outside influence," the Doctor said.  
"No, it's an inside influence," the Librarian said. "I think the Architect is most definitely involved. In fact, I think he's been playing an extremely long game that's finally coming to a conclusion."  
The Warden scoffed. "He's been dead for hundreds of years!"  
"No, he's been missing for hundreds of years, presumed dead," the Librarian interjected. "They never found a body. There's no evidence he ever left this building, let alone this planet, this plane of existence, or this part of the multiverse."  
Silence fell over the trio as they considered this. Rumors had circulated for years, of course, but there was no concrete evidence of what had happened to the Architect. And whether the Vault held anything of value was quickly becoming an unlikely scenario.  
"Here's what I think," the Librarian began. "We go back down there and I bleed on that stupid door. I'm willing to bet it 'magically' opens every lock and lets us in. Once we're in there, we'll find supposed evidence - a journal written by the Architect, original blueprints showing secret chambers, some other bullshit - that leads us on another wild goose chase. And maybe something that would conveniently stop the Council from causing anymore harm, because why not? So the three of us get pulled into yet another puzzle with fantastical potential for answers to burning questions. It creates more tension, probably multiple betrayals, and for what?" She started laughing. "We're here to entertain the Architect!" She laughed even harder.  
The Warden cleared his throat. "I think that-"  
"Think about it first!" she interrupted. "Really, think it over. Can you remember a time when your life hasn't felt like some kind of melodrama?"  
The Doctor stroked his chin. "She might have a point. The random outbreaks of disease in certain cell blocks, bordering on an epidemic that I manage to avert at the last moment? The rebellions that brew and fall apart dramatically in the camps? The fact that there has been a literal slave trade operating in 'secret' for hundreds of years in defiance of every treaty and law across planes and through most of the civilized multiverse?"  
"I refuse to believe that everything we have been through is nothing more than entertainment for a dead man!" the Warden yelled.  
"Doctor," the Librarian steepled her fingers and tapped her chin with them. "You've access to more information than I do. Are there any instances of mortals finding ways to achieve godhood? Or the next best thing to it?"  
The Doctor looked intrigued. "I'll start looking now."  
"Excellent. Warden, I think I need something to eat and a rest. Will you escort me back to our apartments?"  
He nodded tersely, but offered her his arm. She accepted with a smile. "Thank you, Doctor. You've been most helpful," the Librarian said as they left the room.


	26. 27

"Do you mind telling me what all that was about?" the Warden demanded as they walked to their apartments.  
"Maybe I'm muddying the waters, maybe I'm on to something," the Librarian replied calmly.  
"I don't understand any of it," he muttered.  
"I've learned something in my time here, darling. Whatever random curve is thrown at you, lean into it." She squeezed his arm. "Take us, for example. Our first day was a disaster. Based on my past and our interactions, I should have avoided you at all costs. But I didn't. And then something shifted. We became friends. And then it became more. Rather quickly too. Doesn't it strike you as odd?"  
"I don't-" he stopped himself. A thoughtful look crossed his face.  
"And then there's you," she continued. "Memories stolen, unable to die, trapped in your role, the conflict of keeping things running versus your personal feelings about the situation. Tortured in subtle ways. And then they add a new element - a girl in trouble, in need of being rescued and taught her worth. What gentleman could refuse such a noble cause?"  
As she spoke, he began to frown. "You're starting to make sense. I'm not sure I like that."  
"I don't either," she said. "But I know that never in my memory have I experienced a whirlwind romance or lovemaking like last night. No, that wasn't lovemaking. That," she turned suddenly and pinned him against the wall. Her lips brushed his ear. "That was pure, carnal fucking." She nuzzled against his neck, nipping lightly, her hands caressing his shoulders. Just as suddenly as she'd pinned him, she pulled away. Her face was troubled.  
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," she whispered.  
The Warden felt it too. Part of him wanted to shove her against the wall, to give in to the sudden wave of lust that had struck them both. But he was also very aware that doing so made no sense in that moment. "It's a distraction," he said. "We start thinking about the real problem and suddenly we're overcome."  
"I think so too. It's not something we can just get out of our systems and then refocus on the issue." The Librarian chewed her lip. "I need coffee and somewhere to think. Away from you, I'm afraid."  
"Agreed. I think I'll go to my office. It should be far enough away."  
They parted ways silently. The Librarian felt herself awash in lust and fear and loneliness. She knew it was another distraction, an attempt to drive her into his arms again. She hugged herself and hurried to the apartments.


	27. 28

The Warden walked until the Librarian was no longer in sight. Then he ran for his office. Once there, he punched in a call to Councilman V'saass. The Glel answered sleepily, a bit surprised at the vigor of the Warden's expression.  
"V'saass, I need to know who put forward your proposal," the Warden began without preamble.  
"You will pass-" the buzzing reply was cut off."  
"Yes, I'll approve the damn thing, on the condition you answer some of my questions first."  
The Glel's golden eyes blinked, one-two-three-four. V'saass must truly be disturbed if none of his eyes were blinking in sync. "That wasn't the deal. We killed your chit-"  
"She lives. And she's rather angry with you. Or rather, with whoever is behind it all." The Warden smiled wanly. "I might be able to keep you safe from her if you help me."  
"Hrmph, why should I fear some pathetic human?" V'saass's tone dripped scorn.  
"Because she's the Librarian. And if she wants revenge, she will find a way to make it happen. She will search every resource, every obscure book of lore and magic she can find, and she will make her attacker suffer. I'd hate for someone innocent to be caught in that."  
"But I am innocent!" V'saass protested.  
"She doesn't know that. As far as she's concerned, anyone involved deserves to be punished. Now, tell me who put forward the proposal." The Warden tried to sound reasonable.  
"I did, but not the attack on your Librarian."  
"V'saass, you and I both know you aren't smart enough to have come up with that plan. Where did you find it?"  
The Glel hung his head. "I saw it in a holoplay."  
"What was it called?"  
"I-I honestly can't remember." V'saass looked puzzled. "I don't even remember the plot, just that scheme."  
"And the attack on the Librarian?"  
"It was Nayai's idea. I don't know who actually cast the spells." V'saass looked thoroughly defeated. The Warden smiled widely.  
"I shall do my very best to keep you from her wrath, my friend. Thank you. And I will pass your proposal in the next meeting of the Council."  
"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me?" V'saass signed off.  
The Warden stared at the blank screen. He could attempt to confront Nayai the same way, but wasn't sure it was really worth the fight. V'saass had provided enough information to confirm the Librarian's suspicions.  
The Librarian. Just thinking her name conjured memories of the night before. Creamy skin, yielding flesh- no! He clamped down on his thoughts as hard as he could and an old adage came to mind. Ignorance is bliss.


	28. 29

The Librarian entered their apartments and realized she had no idea where to go. Her room was sealed, his room held too many distracting memories, and the library could pull her off course with almost no effort. She looked at the stairs again. She'd never been in the wing to the right. Maybe there would be somewhere there she could hide. A forgotten room. She quickly mounted the stairs and turned to the right. The hallway was nearly a mirror image of the hallway on the left, with one exception. There was a door at the end of this hall. Their hall ended with a window.  
She started down the hall for the door. It had to lead to something new. A new mystery to explore. She stopped dead as that thought crossed her mind. Another distraction. Maybe. Oh, forget it. She ran down the hall and flung the door open. Inside were steps, leading up.  
It was a short climb up to a trapdoor. A hard shove opened it with relative ease. She was on the roof. Fresh air and a soft breeze teased her senses. She pulled herself up and looked around.  
Dead and dying plants were laid out along gravel paths. A partially shattered statue stood in the middle. It was a forgotten garden. Maybe not forgotten, just never discovered. She dropped onto a damp bench and let the breeze swirl around her. It was cold up here, but the cold seemed to clear her head.  
This was all insane. When had her life gotten this weird? Well, once she got here. But it was kind of crazy before too. Wasn't it? Or were her memories all false? It made as much sense as anything else did today. False memories of abuse would make her skittish, and add to the appeal of rescue for the Warden. This place delighted in tormenting people. This place...this place...what if it wasn't just a building? What if...?  
Her head throbbed as the thoughts chased round and round. She needed a distraction so that she could think. The Warden instantly came to mind. His strong hands, the worshipful way he caressed her- no! She dropped to her knees and started pulling dead plants from the nearest bed. She was not going to think of him. There were weeds and dead plants a plenty; she would focus on clearing out this bed and seeing if anything was salvageable.  
Hours passed. Her hands were aching, the fingertips bruised and a few bleeding. The Librarian was sweating, despite the constant cool breeze. The path was covered in dead plants, the beds dotted with the bright green of new growth. She'd made progress, but now she was going to have to go back inside. Meeting the Warden was inevitable. She sighed. They'd just have to make the most of it. And if they ended up in bed again? It wasn't the worst fate in the world, really.  
She came down the steps. The door was still hanging open, thank god. She closed it firmly, then headed down the hallway to their wing. She started toward her room, thoughts of a shower suddenly driven from her mind. Her room was sealed. She would need to shower in the Warden's room.  
"I know," a voice came from behind her. The Warden stepped next to her. "I've been thinking about this, too."  
"I could take another room?" she suggested.  
He shook his head. "Something would happen, either to you, or me, or one of our rooms. And we would be right back here again."  
"Did you have a hard time focusing too?" she asked at last.  
"I did. And then I remembered your advice. Lean into it. It's going to happen, so save the fight for when we need it most." He turned her to face him. "Good heavens, what have you been doing?"  
The Librarian smiled. "Did you know there's a garden on the roof? I've been up there clearing the flower beds. Something physical so I could think."  
"Full offense, my dear, you stink. Go shower." He opened the door to his quarters and ushered her in with a smile.  
"I am fully aware of that. And I will." She smiled back and made straight for the shower.


	29. 30

Warm water eased tight muscles. The puddle at her feet grew cloudy with the dirt and sweat that she scrubbed from her body. She was only mildly surprised to find her shampoo and soap in the Warden's shower. And she had a sneaking suspicion if she opened his wardrobe, her clothes would be in there as well. She smiled, thinking that was probably the easiest move she'd ever had.  
As she rinsed the suds from her hair, she felt hands caress her belly and back, pulling her out of the water and against warm skin.  
"Giving in so quickly?" she murmured, wiping water from her eyes.  
"Yes. I've waited all day for this." The Warden kissed her gently, his lips sliding over hers. She sighed and slipped her arms around his neck.  
"I have too." She stepped back, pulling him under the water with her. "And, right now, I don't care if this is real or just contrived. It feels right."  
He kissed her again. "It's real enough. This is the first time I can remember being happy. No matter what happens, I know that I come back here to you and everything just seems right. You know how I like my coffee and tea, how I like my eggs fixed, the right amount of whisky. I don't think you can fake that." He pressed his forehead to hers. "And I'll fight to keep this."  
Tears welled up in the Librarian's eyes. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, hugging him. He hugged her just as tightly. "I feel the same way," she said at last. "And I'll fight for you too."

In the end, they decided to wait several days before attempting the Vault again. The Warden was worried about her health, and the Librarian was lost in a new train of thought. She didn't like the implications that were lining up. They made sense if you applied the insane theory that this was all a story for someone else, but she didn't like it.  
The day came to try the Vault. The Warden brought a medical kit, in case her theory wasn't entirely right. The Librarian brought nothing. If it was inevitable, then it would be.  
She stopped him as they stepped off of the elevator. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she looked around the warehouse.  
"One," she said, pointing into the gloom. Her hand moved to the opposite side of the room. "Two. Three is in the middle. And Four is One." She covered her face and suppressed a sob. "Our boxes."  
The Warden wrapped an arm around her, confused. "Our boxes?" And then the realization hit. They were practically prisoners themselves. Why wouldn't they have a box and paperwork too? "Should we go find them?"  
Her voice was hoarse. "No. The Vault first."  
They walked slowly up the main aisle again, turning when the Warden indicated. It was no shorter than it had been the first time. As the shape of the Vault resolved, the Librarian felt her heart start to race. So much hinged on what was about to happen.  
She walked up to the door and unwrapped the bandage around her left wrist. Blood had already started to well up. She angled her arm down, letting the liquid gather in her palm. Then she calmly placed her bloodied hand against the door. A deep rumbling filled the space as ancient gears came to life for the first time in centuries. The puzzle panels around the door all instantly turned black, and with a squealing groan of metal on stone, the doors began to swing open.  
The Librarian ignored it. She focused on re-wrapping her wrist. The blood was already drying. Her hunch had been right, but it did not make her feel better. A tear ran down her cheek.  
The Warden faced her, concerned. He wiped the tear away. "Are you alright?"  
She smiled and broke into a sob. "No," she choked out through the tears. Wordlessly, he pulled her tightly against his body. The sobs racked her body and she was mumbling and stuttering out something incomprehensible. After a few minutes, the storm subsided. She was hiccuping and snuffling, but no longer out of control.  
She pulled out a handkerchief and tried to compose herself. "Let's see what all the fuss is," she said thickly.  
"Are you certain you want to do this?"  
"We have to. My suspicions are confirmed but more evidence is never a bad thing." She grabbed his hand and stepped into the semi-darkness.

The inside of the Vault was exactly as overly dramatic as the Librarian had imagined it would be. Torches lined the walls; candelabra sat on the tables; dust lay in a thick grey carpet; spiderwebs festooned corners and table legs. A large raised table in the center of the room held what looked like a codex on a small dias. Bookshelves were filled with ancient looking tomes and trinkets.  
Even as she shook her head, the Warden exclaimed, "It's wonderful!" He let go of her hand and rushed to the codex. Reverently, he put a hand on it, like he was reassuring himself it was real. She ignored it and began to look over the bookshelves. Many of the cracked leather spines simply held a number. A few held words that were incomprehensible. These were either books about magic or of other planetary systems.  
The Librarian closed her eyes. Show me the plans. A tugging in her mind began, and she saw a glow coming from a rather modest volume. It would be lost to the casual observer. She pulled it off of the shelf, sat on the floor and began to read.  
The Warden was bouncing from one wonder to the next. A figure of a fox carved from red crystal that gleamed wickedly in the light. A tome titled "Meditations on the Glel." Tucked into a corner, a roll of parchment that unrolled to reveal spell work and protective runes and sigils that were ten times more powerful than the ones he had had the Doctor tattoo on the Librarian.  
"Darling, I think you need to read this," the Librarian called softly. She held out a small red leather volume.  
He took the book from her, and flipped it to read the cover. He could not. The writing was completely foreign to him. He returned to the page she had marked and found the same writing covered the pages. "I can't."  
"Well, do you want the bad news or the awful news?"  
His stomach turned to ice. "I don't think I want either."  
"Good." She snapped the book shut. "I need one more book and then we can leave this damned place." She pushed up from the floor, and pulled a largish volume from the shelf with the fox. The edges were worn and the pages were crumbling, but she cradled it like an infant and placed the red book on top. She looked at the fox figure. "Do me a favor and bring that as well."  
The Warden reached for it, paused. Every instinct screamed out not to touch it with bare skin. He fished out his own handkerchief and wrapped it around the figurine carefully. He tucked it into the medical bag so that it wouldn't be too close to his body. The Librarian nodded approvingly, then headed for the doors.  
"That's it?" he asked. All this time and for two books and crystal figure?  
"These are the only items that hold what we need. Everything else is meant to dazzle and distract." The doors closed behind them.  
"You don't seem happy about it," he said.  
"What I want and what I need aren't always the same thing." Her voice was sad. "And what I found reminds me that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."


	30. 31

The trip back to their apartments was quiet. The Librarian was lost in thought, chewing her lip absently. The Warden was seriously concerned about what she had found. The more she learned about this place, the sadder she became. And seeing her like this was breaking him.  
"We should have something warm to drink when we get back. Or better yet, a nice long shower," he suggested. She half nodded, eyes unfocused. "Or I could pretend to be Queen of Persia and balance a cake on my head," he tried. Again with the half nod.  
The Warden guided her back to their apartments. Once there, he steered her into the library and gently pried the books from her hands. He gently placed the medical bag next to them, taking care not to jostle the figurine too much. Then he led her upstairs. She followed placidly, still lost in thought.  
Their room was warm. The bed was still rumpled from the night before, and random pieces of clothing were scattered on the floor. He realized that before she had come, he would have found this irritating. Now he saw it as a place where people lived and his chest grew tight. It was where they lived.  
He sat her on the sofa and knelt in front of her. He took her face in his hands. "Dear, you have to talk to me. What did you find?"  
The Librarian finally stirred from her reverie. Her eyes were sad, but she smiled at him. "Something that can be delayed a while. We'll have to face it someday, but not today." She placed a hand on his cheek. "I know it's early, but I'm so tired. I think I'd like to take a nap."  
"Then we will nap." He helped her to her feet and guided her to the bed. They snuggled in together, content to just be, and sleep swiftly overtook them both.  


The Warden woke first. The Librarian was still snuggled in his arms, frowning slightly. He suspected that she had seen the end of this life they had created. What and why didn't matter right now. He wished he could have shielded her from that knowledge.  
Deep down, he knew it wasn't meant to last. But he wanted it to. Oh, how he wanted it to. He softly kissed the top of her head and snuggled her closer. If the end was coming, he would do everything he could to make the most of the time they had left.  
"Too tight," she mumbled, pushing at him feebly.  
"I'm sorry, dear." He loosed his grip.  
"You're overthinking. 'S my job," she said.  
"Did I wake you?"  
"A little." She stretched and pushed her face into his chest. Her breathing slowed and she slipped under again.  
He sighed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was never a guarantee. He rested his chin on top of her head and let himself drift.


	31. 32

When the Librarian awoke, it was dusk and she was alone. Spending most of the day in bed was not the smartest thing, but her body was exhausted. She slipped out of bed, and opened the door to their room. It was so quiet. She went back to the wardrobe and grabbed her cardigan. It was going to be cold on the roof.  
She tiptoed down the hall and opened the door as quietly as possible. Ascending quickly, she made it to the roof before sunset. She focused her thoughts, and the shadows rushed together. A laughing mass with orange eyes slid up from the center.   
_Warned you, I did._ It cackled.  
"Do any of you know a way out?"  
 _Out? You're trapped like the rest of us. Doomed._  
"I'm not him. I can break his work."  
 _No, you can't._ Suddenly the face was inches from her own. Only the head had solidified. It had changed somewhat since popping out of the ceiling. The skull was a curious mix of canine and corvid. The wavering pool of shadows whipped around her body in the wind. _And you can't save your precious Warden either._ The head slowly spun until it was upside down. It cackled again.  
"I have to!" Her voice broke. "I know I can save this place, that I can-"  
 _You can do nothing unless you take the first step. And it will shatter you._ The head drew back. The shadows formed into a humanoid body with that leering face atop it. Wisps of black formed feathers and fur. The hands ended in talons, the lower legs in canid paws. The body suddenly sprouted a dozen more eyes, blazing orange. A large mouth opened in the middle of its torso, tongue lolling. _And when you do, we will take everything that is left._  
The Librarian had no answer. She turned and fled back inside. The Guardian cackled it's crow laugh and let the wind dissolve its shape back into wisps of shadow.  
She slammed the door to the roof shut.  
"What were you doing up there?" asked the Warden from behind her.  
The Librarian whirled around. "You startled me!"  
A crease had formed between his brows. "I wasn't the first one. You look scared to death." He stepped closer, intending to hug her, but she pulled back. "What happened?"  
"I thought I could get answers. I needed to ask a Guardian."  
"Which one?" His voice was tinged with suspicion.  
"The one with orange eyes that taunted us. I think it might be insane. But I also think it told me the truth." Tears welled in her eyes.  
The Warden wrapped her in his arms. "I think I have an idea what the bad news was. This isn't going to last, is it?"  
"No. I don't know how long we have, but I think the knowledge will drive me to-" She shook her head, unable to finish.  
He pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. "Then we live everyday like it's our last. We eat and drink and make love and pray that we get tomorrow to do it all over again." He kissed her softly. "Can you live with that?"  
"I don't think I have much choice," she said with a laugh. "But your way sounds better than just living in fear."  
He smiled back. "Then, shall we go back to bed? Or should we have a nice meal first?"  
Her belly rumbled and they both laughed. "Food first. And then I'd like to sit with you and try another whisky."


	32. 33

They spent the next three days living life the way they wanted. Meals were elaborate affairs; every evening found them cuddling up and watching a movie; they made love every night, and often every morning as well.   
On the tenth day after recovering her memories, the Librarian sat the Warden down in the library. She intentionally sat them in the chairs so that they were spaced apart.  
“I’ve kept things from you, often because I didn’t have all the information. I still don’t, but I think it’s time I told you what I can.”  
The Warden shifted in his seat. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”  
She smiled. “Because you aren’t. What I’ve put together is ugly and underhanded and despicable. It’s everything that’s been buried for a reason.  
“You’re familiar with these books that I’ve been so eagerly collecting?” He nodded. “They hold information about the beginning of this place. About what roles we’re supposed to fill and the powers those roles give us. Of the system that allowed this place to become a slave labor camp. And more than a few magical tomes. Including one that allows you to recover memories that were stolen. All of them.”  
“You used it?” he asked after a moment of silence.  
“I had to have Seven cast the spell. It was incomplete, but I knew they would have access to the knowledge. It’s imperfect. The spell allows you to see the truth but does not erase the lie. It’s like trying to watch two screens at the same time. I can’t imagine what it would do to someone like you or the Doctor.   
“I’ve also uncovered some interesting things about the Architect, and the first Warden. And to finish that thread, I have to do something I’d rather not. If I’m right, we’ll be able to take control of this situation. If I’m wrong, nothing happens.”  
“Is it dangerous? I won’t let-”  
“You don't have a say in this.” The Librarian’s voice was ice. “This is beyond you, beyond us. This is the final piece to building the key that sets all of us free.”  
The Warden stared at her. She had changed in that moment, becoming a storm barely contained in the form of a woman. He wasn’t going to be able to stop her, no matter how badly he wanted to.  
“Then this is what we will do,” he said. “You will go do whatever it is you need to do. I will go and sit with the Doctor and try not to think about whatever it is you’re up to. And when you’re done, you come to Medical so that I know you’re safe. Fair deal?”  
“Agreed.” She stood and turned to look at the doors. Shadow was drifting up through the floor. “It’s time.”  
The Guardian nodded. She put her hand on his back and they sank through the floor.


	33. 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> change the rules, change the game. body horror

The warehouse was poorly lit, as always. But now it was occupied. Every pool of shadows writhed with smoky forms and a kaleidoscope of eyes and teeth rotated through it all. Only Seven Eyes and Shadow were corporeal.  
_I’m still not certain if you are brave or stupid, Librarian_ , Seven Eyes greeted her.  
“I’m a special blend of both, if we’re being honest. Especially for agreeing to this.”  
_So, you guessed?_  
“There were enough clues in the books you left me. Tell me what to do.” The Librarian pulled a piece of chalk out of her pocket. The Guardian gave instructions on the circle of protection, motioning to the correct areas for certain sigils. Once they were in place, smaller Guardians brought in bits of rock, gemstones, sticks, leaves and even mud that they placed on different points.  
The Librarian straightened, stretching her back. She took a deep breath, and stepped into the circle.  
“So, who is willing to step forward for this?” she asked.  
There was a nervous shuffling. Quite a feat for incorporeal forms to pull off, but the discomfort and fear was palpable.  
_I will._ The orange eyed Guardian stepped into the circle. _But I’m going to make you earn this._ It consolidated into its humanoid form, torso teeth clicking impatiently. Then the jaws opened impossibly wide, revealing a tiny white orb. The jaws snapped shut.  
“Alright then,” said the Librarian. She closed the circle with a drop of saliva. It sprang to life, thrumming with power.  
The Guardian charged at her, talons swinging. She dodged, barely avoiding them. As it circled back, she kept her guard up and arms close to her body. It charged again; again she sidestepped. It brought itself to a stop before the edge of the circle and barked its sharp laugh. The Librarian charged, catching it off guard. The torso jaws were opening and she plunged her right arm into the maw. The Guardian clamped down, teeth biting into her upper arm as she grasped the orb. And the world went white.

The Librarian was standing on a field of waving grass. In front of her were five small, black creatures with bright orange eyes. They were bird folk, and warriors as well. Each had a spear strapped to their back and a fierce expression on their face.  
“You’re not one creature. What did the Architect do to you?” she asked.  
_Tricked us. Promised us power and safety and respect. And then bound our tribe together with his soul-bond. Forced us into hounds, made us his executioners._ They still spoke in one voice telepathically, but the Librarian could hear a difference here. There was more than one speaker, each adding to the conversation.  
“I offer you a soul-bond with me. Let me fulfill the bond in the way it was intended. I will not control you. I will not force you to do tasks for me. I will fight side by side with you.” The Librarian offered her hand to them.  
_And our rage?_  
“Probably justified. But I can help direct it, help shoulder some of it.”  
The bird folk circled up, talking amongst themselves. Then they formed into the shadow mass and wrapped around her.  
_We accept. Join with us._

The Librarian was suddenly back in her body, her arm still buried in the Guardian’s maw. A terrific blinding pain ripped through her, through both of them. They screamed together, power surging around them. And the pain left as suddenly as it had come. They staggered away from each other, falling to the ground on all fours. Heaving breaths wracked their bodies, and then they began to laugh. The same barking caw of a laugh.  
The Librarian’s eyes took on an orange glow, and she snapped her bleeding right arm out to the side. The hand had become a talon, the skin up to her elbow a tarry, swirling mass of black. She screamed, and then laughed again. Her left hand had changed as well. The talons dug into the floor, leaving furrows.  
The Guardian pushed themself up off the floor and came over to her. They put their talons on her shoulders and spoke aloud. “Breathe through it. Hold the rage in your mind.” Their voice carried a faint echo within itself.  
Her breathing slowed. The darkness retreated and her hands returned to normal. She laughed again, her laugh this time.  
“You have a voice now,” she wheezed.  
“You gave us back to ourselves. We are Ahsahwheyt. That was our tribe name before the betrayal, and we are all that is left.” They helped the Librarian to her feet.  
“Ahsahweyt, I am glad to meet you,” she said. And she hugged them, turning her torso to avoid the teeth. They embraced her in return.  
_A true soul-bond,_ Seven Eyes said, awe tingeing the thought. _A melding of two beings that makes each stronger and weaker. It truly can be done._  
“You didn’t know if this would work?” the Librarian squeaked.  
_If anyone could do it, you could._  
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is, Seven.”  
_Perhaps, but it strengthens my hope for what else you can do._ The Guardian shuffled a foot through the chalk, breaking the circle. Ahsahweyt grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly before resuming shadow form and melting away. Around the room, other Guardians were also leaving, the winking out of eyes like the disappearing of stars. At last, it was just the Librarian, Seven Eyes and Shadow.  
“We end up just the three of us a lot,” the Librarian remarked. Neither responded. Shrugging, the Librarian started walking deeper into the warehouse.  
_You promised you would go to Medical!_ Shadow protested.  
“I want to look at something in the Vault and I’m already bleeding,” the Librarian explained. “I just have a funny feeling.”  
The walk was as boring as she remembered, and no one spoke. The doors opened easily with a dab of her blood. The dramatic flaring to life of the candles and torches barely registered.  
“Ways to escape,” the Librarian said. Every crystal figurine in the room shone brilliantly, as well as several scrolls. She smiled bitterly. “I knew it. You fucker.”


	34. 35

The Warden was not good company. The Doctor tried to engage him in different conversations, offered to play any number of games, but nothing got much of a response.  
“She’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure the Warden.  
“I wish I could believe that, I really do. But when she hares off with the Guardians, I can’t help but be afraid.”  
“Haven’t they proven they’re not a threat to her?”  
“All but one. And that’s the one I trust the least.” The Warden paused, thinking of how to phrase his concerns when a pair of unearthly shrieks echoed through the room. He shot to his feet, heading to the door, but the Doctor intercepted him.  
“You promised her you would wait.”  
“To hells with that! She’s hurt!” The Warden continued to push, but the Doctor was surprisingly hard to move.  
“Shadow hasn’t come. It can’t be that bad,” the Doctor pointed out.  
“Let me past!”  
The Doctor heaved a sigh. “No. We wait. If Shadow comes running, we’ll go find her. If not, then we will continue to wait for her to come to us.”  
“How can you be so calm about this?” the Warden demanded.  
“Well, I’m not in love with her.” The Warden stopped shoving. “It’s blindingly obvious that you are. Tell me about it.”  
“Why do you care?”  
“I don’t, but I am fascinated by your mating rituals. Did you know your species is only one of seven that kisses both platonically and intimately?”  
“I did not.” The Warden was still anxious, but maybe the Doctor was right. Talking about her wouldn’t keep her safe, but it might make her feel closer. “What do you want to know?”  
“Do you know when you fell in love?”  
“Ha. Lust, yes. It was the moment she saw the library. The look on her face, Doctor, it took my breath away. But love? That was gradual. Every day I saw something new about her. The way she took to the mantle, the way she took to you, the ways she took care of me, even when she hated me. And just like that, I couldn’t live without her.”  
“Did you kiss her before that day when…” the Doctor trailed off. No sense making that day a focal point.  
“No. I came close, but no.”  
“What’s it like?” The Doctor leaned forward, dropping into a stage whisper.  
“Kissing her?”  
“No. Well, yes. I mean, generally.” To the Warden’s surprise, the Doctor was blushing. “I’ve watched it in movies, and with you two, but I can’t really wrap my mind around it.”  
The Warden smiled. “It’s an experience, Doctor. It’s like swimming or eating an eclair. I can tell you, but until you do it yourself, you just don't know.”  
“Did you just offer to let me kiss your girl?” the Doctor teased.  
“Absolutely not. Why is this bothering you so much?”  
“Because I need to know!”  
“Huh, you’d have made a great Librarian with that attitude,” came a voice from the door. The Librarian was leaning against the doorframe, hand wrapped around her bleeding bicep. “And you would do better asking me instead of him.”  
The Warden leapt to his feet and rushed over to her. “What happened?” he demanded.  
“Can I sit down? I’m exhausted. And I promise I’ll tell you everything.”  
The Doctor examined her arm. “No lasting damage; the nanobots seem to be doing their job this time.”  
“Boys, please, let me sit down!” she grumped at them, shoving past to a chair. She collapsed, leaning her head back and covering her face with both hands. Both noticed that her nails were significantly longer and sharper, as well as a dusty black color. She gasped and sat up straight, dropping her hands. One eye was bright orange.  
“The sunset! I’ve never seen it here. It’s so beautiful.” Her face hardened. “So much of this place I haven’t seen. So much taken from so many.” The Librarian’s voice dropped into a growl, and her nails grew, her arms turning black and her other eye becoming orange as well. Her teeth lengthened as she snarled. “That lying bastard piece of shit is going to pay for what he’s done!’  
A dark form poured from the ceiling, shape resolving into Ahsahweyt. The Guardian wrapped their arms around her, murmuring, tears shining on their skull.  
“What is going on?” the Warden cried. “What have you done to her?”  
_A soul-bond can be unpredictable._ Seven Eyes was laying in front of the door. _When the Librarian bonded with Ahsahweyt, I don’t think either was prepared for the backlash of emotions. The Librarian gained much of Ahsahweyt’s rage and Ahsahweyt gained a large measure of the Librarian’s empathy. Both are suffering._  
“I don’t understand,” the Doctor said. “Soul-bond?”  
“It was something the Architect did to create the Guardians. The Librarian thought that if she could bond with a Guardian, she would understand...I don’t know,” said the Warden, suddenly tired. “She never really shared what she thinks is going on. Only that this would help end it.”  
Ahsahweyt looked up. “She was right,” they said. Both the Doctor and Warden jumped. “Bonding with me filled in the last of what she needed to know.”  
“She gave you a voice?” the Warden asked hoarsely.  
“She gave us _back_ our voice, and our name,” Ahsahwayt said. They motioned for the Warden to come over. “She needs you. Hold her and comfort her. We must go with Seven Eyes to spread word through the Prison. The last days are coming.” They nodded to the Doctor, and both Guardians disappeared into the floor.


	35. 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan begins to form

The Warden wrapped his arms around the Librarian. Her rage had left her, and now she was crying. The blackness had retreated from her skin, and her eyes were back to their hazel color once again. Her nails remained black and sharp.  
Several moments passed in silence before the Doctor said, “Last days. There’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear here.”  
“When did it get so serious? And why?” the Warden asked musingly. “Before the Librarian arrived it was an ethical pissing match between myself and the Council. And now, everything is dramatically and violently falling apart.”  
The Librarian’s tears had slowed, and she sniffled. “It’s him. The Architect, or the man who called himself Architect. This whole place is built on lies and betrayal. I found answers that lead to more questions. I’m getting sick of it, honestly.”  
“So what are you going to do?” the Warden asked.  
“Nothing.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Nothing at all. The conclusion is inevitable, and I’m not making myself crazy to amuse some asshole who won’t show his face.”  
“But this sounded serious,” the Doctor said.  
“Yes, and have you noticed _everything_ is?” the Librarian shot back. “Are either of you familiar with tropes?” The men both shook their heads, and she continued. “They’re common themes in storytelling that are given shorthand terms, like enemies-to-lovers. Pretty self explanatory. But there are others.  
“Like, when I first arrived, Seven told me that you were practically at war with the Council, Warden. But I haven’t seen or heard a thing about it since. That’s a macguffin - a plot point that never gets mentioned again. Everytime it seems that we face a seemingly insurmountable problem, somehow I find the answers. Deus ex machina.”  
“Is this your theory about how we’re just entertainment to him again?” the Doctor huffed.  
“Yes, because we’re falling into these over and over again. You can’t give me librarian powers and not expect me to use them, because I will. And I see storytelling. Shitty storytelling, but storytelling all the same. All we can do is try to either conform or subvert it as best we can.”  
“And how do we do that?” asked the Warden.   
“If we choose to conform, then this is the point we stiffen our spines and vow to fight. We collect allies, call in old debts, rally the prisoners to our side. We may lose horribly, but fight the good fight to the last. Or we triumph and all is saved. That can go either way.  
“If we choose subversion, then we lean into the despair. Send the prisoners away from the building, dismiss staff. Either accept fate or try to run. I found some items that I think were set up to be escape plans. They might teleport you gods know where, but you’d be away from here. We could just abandon everything. But this story wouldn’t end and some other unsuspecting suckers would get pulled in to this to see it play out to the end. And that’s assuming we can even escape.”  
“Aren’t you cheerful?” snarked the Doctor.  
“Just callin’ ‘em like I sees ‘em,” she said with a shrug. “So, what do we do?”  
“Lean in,” the Warden said firmly. “It bought us some peace when we did that romantically. So we put it all on the fight and either give him what for or go out in a blaze of glory.”  
“Yuck. Although, if you take that path, I’d at least be useful patching up the wounded,” the Doctor said.  
“Agreed. So, tomorrow, we start calling potential allies.” The Librarian yawned. “It’s late. Take me to bed, dear.”  
He kissed her forehead. “Oh, I will. In every sense of the word, darling.”


	36. 36

It was raining on the last day. The Librarian drifted awake to the tap tap tap of icy bits hitting the panes. And she knew that it was the last day. She showered and dressed slowly, savoring the routine. She could smell breakfast. The Warden had learned to cook a few things. They both agreed there was nothing as good as homemade when it came to breakfast. And he'd gotten quite good. Bacon and eggs and coffee mingled their scents into a siren call.  
She came down the stairs and paused in the doorway. He was busy at the stove, humming happily. She wanted to hold this memory in her mind. Nothing grand or even romantic. Just the simple enjoyment of life. A tear traced down her cheek.  
"Good morning, darling," she said softly. He turned and his smile faded. She nodded. He closed his eyes.  
"When?" His voice was thick.  
"Now, I think. I have no appetite."  
He sighed and turned off the stove top. "It doesn't feel fair. Knowing it was coming didn't help at all."  
"I don't think it ever does." She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. "But we took every day for everything we could."  
"Maybe you're wrong," he said hopefully. "Maybe the Guardian lied to you."  
She kissed him. "I can wish."  
He stepped back, squaring his shoulders. "So, where does it all end?"  
"Where it began. The Collector. But we have one stop to make first.”

The warehouse was as gloomy as ever. The Librarian took the Warden’s hand as they walked the long rows. Words rose up on both their tongues, but there didn’t seem to be anything to say. So they walked in silence, fingers interlaced.   
She turned off, winding between tables until she finally stopped. Lifting the top off of the box, she reached in and took out a smaller tray.  
“Did I really wear so much jewelry?” she joked, sifting through the metal. She stopped and pulled out what she had been looking for. A largish ring set with a brilliantly faceted garnet and small diamonds. She slipped it on her left forefinger and sighed. Then she dumped the rest into the med bag she’d taken to carrying her supplies in. As she did, the Warden saw a glint of red crystal and knew that the fox statue was in there as well. He repressed a shudder.  
She grabbed the Warden’s hand again and wove across the rows of tables, zigging and zagging until they reached what she was looking for.  
“Your box,” she said, motioning. The Warden lay a hand on the lid. What kind of secrets would this hold? Did he want to know? Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the lid open. There was surprisingly little. A small datebook, a leather wallet and a small box that held two signet rings. One was quite large, a sunburst on an azure background. The other was smaller, solid gold, marked with the initials _JTE_ and three crossed arrows.   
“Did you know?” he asked quietly.  
“I had suspicions you were a gentleman in your former life. And no gentleman is without a signet ring.” She smiled.  
He slipped the larger ring onto his right middle finger. But the gold ring he held, tossing it slightly as he thought. Then he grabbed her left hand, slipped of the garnet and slid on his ring instead. He put the garnet ring on the pinky of his left hand.  
“Maybe we make it through today. Maybe not. But I love you. And since I don’t think we have time to get married…” he trailed off, shrugging. “Consider it a promise.”  
The Librarian threw her arms around him. “Well, one of us is doomed for sure now. But I don’t care. I love you, too.” She kissed him gently before taking his hand again. “One more box.”  
Their path wove through the rows to the outside wall and what must have been the very first box. Inside there was only one thing: a dinged-up pocket watch. The Librarian reverently added this to her pocket.  
“Now we have what we need.” She tried to make her voice light, but it felt impossible. “Are you ready?”  
“No.”  
“Good, me either.”


	37. 37

The outer chamber to the Collector’s cell was somewhat full. The med robot was on stand-by, a weak hologram projection of the Doctor standing beside it.The shadows writhed and swam with teeth and eyes as the Guardians massed. Shadow, Seven and Ahsahweyt were the only three in solid form. Seven bowed their head to them as they entered.   
“Ready for this, Boss Lady?” Ahsahweyt asked, their lower jaws seeming to grin.   
“Nope! But we’re doing it anyway!” The Librarian barked a laugh, nerves fraying but holding. “Warden, wait.” She reached into the med bag and pulled out the crystal fox. Its facets caught the scant light and glittered brilliantly. She tucked it into his jacket pocket.   
“I don’t-” he started.  
“Hush. When I tell you to, grab the statue with your bare hand and say the word ‘Arncoll.’ Can you do that?”  
“Arncoll, while touching it. Why?”  
“That little fox will strike a serious blow at the Collector, weakening the Architect. I’m hoping that’s our ace in the hole. But I can’t do it. I’ll be busy. I need you for this. Please.”  
The Warden shifted his weight. “I trust you.” He kissed her, swiftly, and began the process of unlocking the massive door.  
Soft blue light spilled from the open doors. The Librarian balled her fists, gathering her courage as the Warden joined her. She nodded, and they stepped through the doors.  
The Collector was agitated. The murky blue swirled, shadows darting instead of drifting.  
_Why are you here?_ it demanded.  
“Oh, enough,” the Librarian snapped. “You’re perfectly aware of why. Now spit up the Architect.”  
The swirling blue darkened, black currents churning angrily. _How dare you-_  
“I. Said. Enough.” The Librarian’s voice was low but held an edge. The Warden felt gooseflesh break out across his body. “You will do as commanded.”  
Again, the mass shifted, but this time a hole opened. A man stepped through, grinning in delight.  
“Oh! Wonderful! I had such high hopes and you exceeded them all!” His brown eyes sparkled, and his tenor voice was unbearably chipper. “Really, Elaynia, you’ve outdone yourself.”  
The Librarian snaked her hand into the med bag. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
“And what’s this?” He rushed over and grabbed her left hand. “You’ve exchanged rings?”  
“Now!” she shouted, pulling her hand from the bag and swinging at the newcomer’s head. The Warden grabbed the statue and yelled “Arncoll!” The Librarian had time to meet his eyes, full of shock and hurt, as he slid into the portal that swallowed him before winking out.


	38. 38

The Librarian’s hand never connected. She hadn’t intended for it to anyway, but it had served its purpose of distraction. The man came up out of the crouch he’de dropped into.  
“That was rather cold of you, sending him away like that,” he pouted.   
“You’ve been playing by trope pretty closely. One of us was going to die. Now you’ve only got one target, Trickster.”  
"Elaynia,” he chided. “Let’s do away with this title nonsense. You and I are outside and above all that. Please, call me Azdis.” He smiled. “And yes, I am a quote trickster god unquote. But I like to think of myself as a story teller and creator.”  
“I’m sure you do,” the Librarian said, backing away a step or two.  
“Let’s see how good you really are,” Azdis said. “Let’s see if you can tell me what my role in this has been.”  
“You’ve been banished from your own realm?” she guessed. He nodded, waving her on. “You found an opportunity when this place was just beginning. And you found a way to imprison the real Architect while taking his place. You changed the rules of this place, and stacked the Council with greedy beings who would put profit over everything.”  
He laughed. “Oh, they truly did send the best to try to stop me. I wanted nothing less! Go on, I want to see if you figured it all out!” He paced around her in a circle, wide smile growing more predatory with each guess she made.  
“You specifically recruited key people. The Doctor and the Warden. But they couldn’t solve your puzzle. So you brought me in. Gave me false memories. No, you gave me _layers_ of false memories so that every time I thought I had something figured out, there was more to distract me. Pushed me and the Warden together.”  
“I rather liked that bit, considering how much you two hate each other.” Azdis hugged himself. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall when you two reconnect. Except you won’t be, will you?” His tone lost the glee and became sinister.  
“No, I won’t. But I need to know. Why?”   
He stared at her for a long moment. “I owe you no explanations, except I think you might actually understand. Originally, I was going to use this place to create an army to reclaim my place. Or carve a new one. Imagine it! The most violent, evil beings from dozens of planets and planes, all hand picked and delivered to me. Beings willing to kill for money, or fun. And then they flooded me with political prisoners. Idealists and artists. What kind of army is that?  
“So, I ‘recruited’ a new warden for the place, hoping a military man could improve things. Sadly, he proved to be a failure. Too long away from battle and too long at a council table, arguing. He at least proved an interesting puppet to try redirecting the Council to my whims.   
“And then someone sent for help. I’ve encountered acolytes of Nepthys before, but you’re very different, Elaynia. So sure of yourself, so determined to protect your seers.”  
“I don’t know what you keep talking about!”  
He sighed theatrically. “I suppose if I want this fun to last…” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. He gently stroked his thumb across her forehead and said, “Remember.”  
Her previous memory recovery experiences were nothing like this. This was like being struck by lightning. Her body went rigid, convulsing, and she screamed with the pain of it. All of the false memories she’d learned in this place were burned away in white hot agony, leaving only the truth. She was Elaynia Bright, Lady Farseer of the Order of Nepthys. Her mission had been to free the Architect. She’d taken the responsibility herself as this was a new client on a plane that they had not worked with before. This job was supposed to take perhaps an hour. And now she was romantically entangled with her politcal rival, permanently bonded to a monstrous creature, and in the arms of the mad trickster god Azdis.  
She tried to pull back and he laughed, nose wrinkling. “Oh, I’m sorry I waited to do that! The look on your face when you realized everything. That’s something men spend their lives chasing.”  
She swung, talons raking at his face. One caught the edge of his jaw, leaving a bloody furrow.  
“For all your knowledge of stories, you seem to forget that mortals cannot defeat gods.” He caught her with a hard backhanded slap, driving her to the floor. Ahsahweyt charged in, tackling Azdis from behind. Flowing between forms allowed the Guardian to attack in unexpected patterns.  
Elaynia crawled closer to the Collector. “I need the Architect, now!”  
Ahsahweyt went sailing past, screaming in pain. Their lower facial jaw was hanging at an unnatural angle, half of it ripped away. Black blood oozed from around the bone. Seeing their companion hurt, dozens of other smaller Guardians charged in, keeping Azdis occupied.  
The Collector heaved and a metal box slowly emerged. Elaynia dug frantically into her pocket, looking for the watch. On the chain was a charm. It fit into the lock on the front. As she waited for the lid to open, she was struck from behind. Azdis was snarling now, the broken-off jawbone of Ahsahweyt in his hand. He struck her across the face again, fang catching her left cheek and tearing. The pain was intense and immediate.  
She whirled, striking at him again. He caught one wrist, but couldn't stop her right hand driving for his ribs. The raked across the bones, catching skin but nothing more.  
Their struggles drove them to the floor, hands scrabbling at faces and throats, legs twisting together as they attempted to keep the other from kicking. Ahsahweyt drug themselves back toward the fray, unable to do much more than snap at the flailing limbs.  
Azdis gained the upper hand, pinning her on her back. He laughed. “I see why Elliot took you for his woman. You’re a force to be reckoned with. Not enough to beat me, but still…” He ran an appraising eye over her. “You would have made a queen fit for my stature. Maybe you still could?”   
A loud _click_ echoed through the chamber, halting the fight as they both looked at the box. The lid slowly rose, and a slender, older man emerged. He noticed the watch still dangling from the lock and picked it up, tucking it into his vest pocket. Only then did he turn his attention to the two on the floor.  
Azdis and Elaynian untangled themselves, pushing away from each other with distrust. Azdis made it to his feet first, rushing the Architect and burying the jawbone in the man’s throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First draft was WAAAAAY rough. This is better, don't you think?


	39. 39

The Architect staggered and dropped to his knees. Azdis pulled the jawbone free and swung it again, connecting with the Architect’s temple. He dropped like a sack of stones, blood pouring onto the ground.  
Seven Eyes let out an eerie, echoing howl and launched themselves at the god. He caught them easily and whispered a word. The Guardian screamed, pulling apart into the separate spirits that had formed it, these dissolving into ash. Azdis laughed maniacally.  
“Freedom at last!” he cried.  
Elaynian charged him again, knowing it was useless. He caught her easily, swinging her into an embrace. He pulled her close to his face, and whispered, “Did you really think this was designed to be a super prison? No, silly girl, this was _my_ prison, and you just obligingly opened the lock.” Then he kissed her, before dropping her to the ground.  
She didn’t bother to fight this time. She opened her bag and dug through it quickly. She fumbled for three silver rings, hands slick with blood and shaking in terror. The Prison was beginning to shudder and shake. Around her, Guardians were shrieking as their forms turned to ash. Ahsahweyt crawled near.  
“I can’t hold on,” they gasped. “If this form dies, we die with it. And you might too.”  
She dropped the rings and cradled their ruined head in her hands. “What can I do?”  
Hands snaked over hers. “Do you know what this _thing_ was before I shaped it?” Azdis asked. “A rag-tag bunch of savage carrion eaters. I made them glorious, gave them purpose-”  
“Drove them mad,” Elaynian interrupted.  
“That too. And now look. Ruined.” He forced his hands together, trapping hers against the Guardian’s skull. With a sigh and a sharp crack, the skull shattered. Five orange motes danced before her eyes. Without thought, Elaynian grabbed one. As she did, they burst into brief flames and crumbled to ash. Her hands clenched uselessly at the drifting dust and a sob choked her.  
“You could still be my queen, you know. Not many mortals would try to fight a god more than once. I could give you companions to make the Guardians seem like children’s toys. I might even let you have your precious Lord Elliot for a plaything. We could take the Arncollian Empire, then take it all.” He was so close his lips brushed her ear. She felt him smile. “We could challenge the reigning gods. You could become a goddess in your own right.”  
And, gods help her, she considered it. Not for the power, but to keep him in check. A distracted god might not terrorize people. But he’d killed Ahsahweyt, and made her an unwilling accomplice in that. And he’d broken something in her when he had.  
“No, I know. You’ll become my priestess. You gave your ring of office away; Nepthys won’t take you back. She’s flexible on celibacy but expects fidelity to her and her alone.” He turned her gently to face him. “Or shall I leave you in the ruins of this place?”  
There was no real choice. And he was right. Giving the Warden any other ring would have sealed their bargain, but giving him _that_ ring had ended her life with Nepthys. Elaynian had no family, no land or title of her own; she had given all in service of Nepthys.  
“I will become your priestess. How may I serve you, oh great Azdis?”  
He smiled. “Let’s go visit my temple." And they vanished into the ether.


	40. Interlude

Betsy Drake was cleaning her mistress’s study when she heard the loud crack. Curious, she followed the noise. The shrine behind the Lady Farseeker’s desk was in disarray. The statue of Nepthys had cracked in two; the offerings of flowers and fruit had rotted into a slurry; the candles were pools of black wax. Betsy had personally laid out the offerings that morning, replacing the white candles and saving the remains to be made into new candles.  
Something horrible had happened to her lady. She quickly gathered her supplies and made straight for Elaynian’s bedchamber. Betsy made straight for the wardrobes, packing anything that was secular into the lady’s luggage. The robes of office were fraying on their hangers, embroidery unravelling even as she watched.  
Betsy had a touch of the foresight, not enough to have become a Seer, but enough to know trouble when she saw it. She hurried her packing, and calmly made her way through the order’s house. Outside, she walked away, unsure of where she was going. But she knew she would find Elaynian Bright and help her however she could.

Rhys Stone was not a man given to flights of fancy. A tumultuous childhood led him to joining the military as soon as they would take him. The rigors and routine suited him. When his career was ended by a shoulder wound, he took the offer to become his commander’s valet. It was a decision neither had regretted, and the line between master and servant and friend would often blur. They had served and survived together, after all; there weren’t many who could say that about the meat grinder that was Arannkarah.  
Lord Elliot’s disappearance had Stone shaken. There had been no ransom notes, no notes saying that business would take him away. He had left five days before to head into Arncoll on an errand. His horse had returned within the hour, riderless. A thorough search of the grounds had revealed nothing.  
Stone sat in his sparse room, mulling over the facts when he felt a chill. This was not physical, but metaphysical. A chill he hadn’t felt since childhood. He opened his wardrobe and removed a wooden box that contained a few momentos: service medals, a pair of cufflinks Lord Elliot had given him for ten years service, and a charm his grandmother had given him. It was a laughing fox, the sigil of Azdis the Trickster.  
His grandmother had been a devotee of Azdis. When he was banished, his temples destroyed, his followers were often persecuted. His grandmother gave him that charm before fleeing one way, his family the other. He’d never seen her again. And now the charm glowed softly blue. He didn’t know what it meant exactly. But he knew trouble when he saw it.


	41. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of part 2. Originally this would have been the start of book 2, but the story twisted under me and here we are.

He woke up face down in a pile of damp leaves. It was freezing and his whole body ached. A large animal was nearby, pacing and whining. He forced his eyes open and saw it was a dog. Large and grey, it nuzzled at his face. When he recoiled, the dog licked him. Was this his dog?  
He tried to sit up but pain sang through his body. He tried to roll onto his right side. That went a little better, but he was very aware of the pain in his left arm, left leg, and head. He was in the woods, in some sort of ravine. The ground was rocky, and an outcropping very close to his head had a splash of blood on its surface. Fallen autumn leaves had not cushioned his fall.  
_Okay, James, don't panic,_ he thought. Then he wondered where the name James had come from. Was that his name? No, he was the Warden. Wasn’t he?  
The dog continued to pace and whine. James started to stretch out his hand, only to pull the arm back in pain. "Come here, boy," he said softly. "Come on, Shadow." The dog came closer, responding to the name. On closer inspection, the dog couldn’t be Shadow. It only had two eyes. “Bruno?’ the dog’s tail wagged faster and it gave a gentle _boof_ in response.  
It was late afternoon, and the temperature was cooling. He realized that a cold night was quickly closing in and that his chances of surviving were rapidly narrowing. Doing his best to ignore the pain, he pushed himself up. An immediate wave of dizziness and nausea put him back on the ground. He groaned.  
The dog was snuffling around in a pile of leaves, and then began to dig frantically. It picked something up in its mouth and brought it to him. A clear crystal statue of a fox. He took it carefully from the dog’s mouth, a wave of comprehension sweeping him up. The fight at the Prison. The Librarian. She had sent him away. Was she okay? Would he ever see her again? He pulled the statue tight against his body with his right hand, determined to keep it close.  
He lifted his left hand as far as he could. On his pinkie was her garnet ring. At least he had this to remind him it had been real. But looking at it now, he felt like he knew it for other reasons. He caressed it with his thumb as tears pricked his eyes.  
Bruno’s ears shot up and he ran away, barking. James watched the animal but it quickly disappeared from his sight. He sighed and lay his head back in the leaves. The cold was seeping into his injuries, adding a deep ache to the throbbing pain.  
“Lord Elliot!” a man’s voice cried out. A beam of light flickered through the trees over James’s head. “Lord Elliot, can you hear me?”  
“Dow-” he had to clear his throat and try again. “Down here!”  
The light found him, blinding him in the dusk. “He’s over here! Tobias, go fetch the cleric and bring him to the house. The rest of you, get that stretcher!”  
There were answering shouts and the neigh of a horse. More lights joined the first, and James could hear men discussing how to reach him safely. Bruno barked, running back and forth from the men to James. Eventually the first man noticed, and found the path Bruno was showing them.  
Wincing in the bright light, James tried to focus on the face of the man. It was the first man on the scene. He looked relieved, but there was still worry underneath. “Lord Elliot?” the man asked quietly. “James, are you alright?”  
“I think I’ve broken several bones,” James moaned.  
“No worries, sir. We’re here now and the healer is on the way.” The man smiled weakly.  
“You don’t have a very good poker face, Simon,” he tried to joke. _But how do I know his name?_  
“Never did, sir. That’s why I stick to dice,” Simon answered with a nervous laugh. James returned the laugh weakly and clasped the man’s arm weakly with his left hand.  
“We have to find her, Simon. She could be hurt worse than I am,” he wheezed.  
“Who, sir?”  
“My fiance. My Librarian.” James felt himself greying out, and fought to hold on to consciousness.  
The men arrived with the stretcher and maneuvered it under James as best they could. It was rough and jostled him more than anyone wanted, but it was the only way to bring him up. Bruno stayed right by the stretcher, whining from time to time. They lay the stretcher on the bed of a cart and slowly began the journey back to the house.

The manor house loomed in the darkness, lights on the lower level blazing. A solitary horse waited by the front entrance, a young man holding the reins and peering anxiously in the direction of the cart. Two figures stood in the doorway.  
“This way, gentlemen. I’ve set up a triage in the day room.” The tall wiry man led the group inside. James began to laugh, raspily. The entrance was nearly a carbon copy of ...what? Something familiar. The entry to the apartments. The inlay on the floor was different - a maroon sunburst on an azure field.It was his family’s crest. Had it been in front of him all those years?  
The men carried the stretcher past the staircase and down a hall to a room that seemed to consist largely of windows. A pallet had been set up, and a tall man in a red cassock stood nearby.  
“Lord Elliot? I am Brother Thaddeus of the Order of Oysus the Charitable. Do I have your permission to heal your wounds?”  
James nodded, bracing himself for the pain. It came on like a summer storm, hard and fast. The pain eased but the deep ache remained.  
The tall wiry man ( _my valet, Stone. Rhys Stone. Fought with me at Arannkarah._ ) escorted the cleric away, murmuring thanks and contributing to the holy man’s cause with a promise of more. James closed his eyes and let the darkness overtake him.


End file.
